


Rüdiger Zweigl and the School in the Mountain

by Silverfox



Series: Rüdiger Zweigl [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 81,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox/pseuds/Silverfox
Summary: What might an Austrian school of magic look like? Here's my take.





	1. Prologue

Prologue

 

7 November 1980.

 

In a small dark room off the main street of magical Paris a mirror beeped. A man who had been writing at the table it was lying on sneered as he picked it up.

“I thought I told you not to contact me until you’d completed the task,” he snapped in German.

“And so I have,” the woman in the mirror replied in the same language. “Are you free to talk, Amadeus?”

Amadeus’s eyes lit up. “Heinrich von Lothringen is dead?”

“Poisoned in his own home,” the woman returned with a smile. “Which I never set foot into, of course.”

“Excellent,” Amadeus praised her. “This is it then. House Lothringen is done for.”

“There’s still the girl,” the woman cautioned. “And the Emperor himself.”

“What girl?” Amadeus demanded sharply. “I know of no girl.”

“Anna-Theresia von Lothringen,” the woman explained. “Heinrich’s daughter. She’d be next in line for the throne. Well, whoever marries her will be.”

There was a pause. Finally Amadeus said: “He won’t bear the name von Lothringen, but still it leaves my revenge incomplete. How old is the girl?”

“Merely a baby. She celebrated her first birthday sometime last month.”

“Not much older than my grandson then,” Amadeus said. “But no, I will not let her live on such a tenuous chance at the throne. The girl must die.”

“She will be well guarded after her father’s assassination,” the woman pointed out.

“Indeed, but there’s time. It will be years before she can get married or produce another heir. She will have to come out of hiding sometime. She has to be educated, after all. Then she’ll walk right into our hands.”

“You want us to strike at the school?” The woman gasped.

“It will be our last strike,” Amadeus said. “And the easiest.”


	2. Chapter 1: The Mysterious M-Gym

Chapter 1: The Mysterious M-Gym

 

"Well then," the teacher said with a smile that was just a touch sad and a little proud, but mostly happy that another school year was over. "Have a good holiday and good luck at your new schools. Good bye."

Then she opened the door and with happy shouts of "Good bye, Frau Lehrerin!" most of the students rushed out with their grade sheets in hand.

Rüdiger took a little longer as he had to stow his grade sheet away properly in his schoolbag. His Mama had insisted that he took the bag along on the last day of school for just that purpose and she'd be angry if he brought the document home wrinkled. It was an official document, Mama had explained and Rüdiger assumed that was why it was printed on such pretty, formal paper with the large green picture of the Austrian eagle in the background.

It was a waste, he thought, because with all his grades printed over it the eagle was a bit difficult to see, but Rüdiger knew the design well from the picture that hung in the classroom. The eagle was facing right with a crown on his head and sticking out his tongue. A bit rude, in Rüdiger’s opinion, but maybe it was aimed at whoever had put the torn chain around his talons on him. The eagle was also carrying a hammer and a sickle making Rüdiger wonder whether he was going to work in the fields or mend a fence. The teacher had never explained, but maybe he'd learn that at the Hauptschule some day.

He didn't really mind taking a little longer to leave than the other children either. He'd be the last to get home anyway seeing how most of them lived right in the village or on farms much nearer than Opa’s. It was embarrassing to be the only one bringing his schoolbag for a day consisting of Mass and the handing out of grade sheets, though.

"I'll miss you, Frau Lehrerin," he said softly as he walked out.

She'd been his teacher for all four years of the Volkssschule. When he'd started one year had seemed like an eternity, let alone four, but now, just like this, it was over. He'd never walk into this classroom again, never watch her write on the blackboard, never see her ... Well, that wasn't quite true. He'd probably meet her when they went shopping in the village or on the way home from the bus stop after school. She lived in the village after all and the bus to town where he'd go to the Hauptschule for another four years stopped here.

They'd be hard four years, five if he counted the legally required ninth year of school which he'd have to attend in town as well. To be on time for the eight o'clock start of school he'd have to leave home at five in the morning everyday.

"There you are!" Kurt's call interrupted his thoughts. "What took you so long?"

"Just saying good bye to the Frau Lehrerin. You didn't have to wait," Rüdiger told his best friend.

"And miss the chance to walk home together for the last time?"

Everybody else had, Rüdiger thought, but then they'd all be going to the same Hauptschule and taking the same bus home next year. Kurt on the other hand ...

"Why don't you come to the Gymnasium with me?" he asked Rüdiger just then. "You don't have any threes, do you?"

"No," His grades were fine. Not all ones like some children got, but nothing worse than a couple of twos either. "But that has nothing to do with it."

He wondered whether Kurt had a three. If he did, his parents had threatened, he’d have to take an exam to get into the Gymnasium despite it.

"You could go on to university afterwards, become a doctor or lawyer ...," he added.

"And what about Opa's farm?" Rüdiger shook his head laughing. "He needs me to help with the work. He isn't getting any younger, he says, and someday when he grows too old to run it it'll all be mine. Mama is his only child so I'm the only possible heir."

"Do you really want that? All that hard work? What for? Papa says one can't live off it anymore and with the Matura you’ve got all paths open to you. You can become anything you want."

That was true. It was the rest station more than the farm itself that brought in most of what little money they had, but the farm helped and they produced much of what they ate themselves.

"We get by fine," he claimed. "And we've been living there for generations. Besides it’s too far away and nobody else is going either. Well, nobody with a farm or business to inherit," he amended quickly.

"You could still become a farmer after the Gymnasium, you know. You'd just have the option to go to university, if you ever wanted to," Kurt reminded him.

"But I don't want to. I've got no use for it and I'm needed on the farm." Besides boarding school was probably very expensive. Kurt's parents could afford it, but not Opa or Mama. Maybe Papa could, but they shouldn't ask him for money, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. He could go to the Hauptschule in town for free. That’s what all the other farm-boys did. Why should he be different?

Kurt sighed. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Rüdiger admitted, though Kurt would probably have it worse considering that Rüdiger would still have all his other friends with him while Kurt knew nobody in the city. "But that's how it is."

He suspected that Kurt wasn't really all that eager to go to the catholic boarding school either, but his parents hadn't given him a choice. Their situation was different from his family's, Opa had explained to him, that was why they had such high academic ambitions for their son. They didn't have a farm Kurt could inherit to start with. Kurt's father was the manager of the small supermarket in the village. A comfy job, Opa said, but he didn't own the shop and couldn't pass it on. Kurt's mother was the Tante at the village Kindergarten, where children too young to go to school went, if there was no family member to watch them during the day.

Rüdiger had never gone there himself of course. There'd always been at least one adult at home to serve the customers of the rest station.

They didn't go very far together. Kurt lived only a short distance from the school and too soon they stopped in front of his house. They stood at the garden gate looking at each other unhappily.

"We've got all summer before you have to leave," Rüdiger pointed out.

"Will you come down to visit?" Kurt asked. "I can try to convince Mama to let you spend the night."

"And you have to come up and help with the harvest," Rüdiger returned.

It wasn't quite the equal of Kurt's invitation to play, though. At harvest time Opa needed the help of every pair of hands he could get and even a slightly spoiled ten year old who had little experience doing farmwork would be a welcome asset. Rüdiger himself had grown up with the work and considered himself as efficient at it as the adults by now.

"Oh, not the steep fields!" Kurt moaned.

"But that's where we need it the most!"

The steep fields had earned that name due to the ground being too steep for the tractor to handle. According to Opa it would drop on its side somewhere in the field, if they ever drove it in, and they'd need a crane to pull it back out. Rüdiger had never seen it done. The steep fields were ploughed using man- and horsepower just as they had been before the invention of the automobile.

Papa had once suggested to give them up entirely as they were too much work and too little profit, but Opa had just shaken his head and said that they needed them. They might not make much money selling the crops, but most of what the steep fields produced was for their own use anyway. Mama's home baked bread was quite popular with the hungry hikers and skiers that stopped at the rest station.

After saying his good byes to Kurt and promising to visit whenever he wasn't needed at the farm Rüdiger went on alone. He turned left at the post office, walked past the Niedermeiers' farm in the baking July heat and soon reached the hiking route.

The sign here said that it was three hours to the rest station, but on a good day Rüdiger could easily manage in just under two. He tended to walk faster than the average hiker and knew every shortcut. Some people pitied him for his long, hard walk home, and sometimes Rüdiger would complain about it, usually when he had to get up early on a dark winter morning. At this time of the year he loved the hiking route, though. It was peaceful and quiet with the occasional berries growing in the bushes, birds singing in the trees and always the chance of seeing other animals on the way.

The best thing about it, though, was that most of the way it led through the forest where soft pine needles covered the nice shady path. Soon he'd be out of the sun's hot glow.

On the way up he passed two small groups of hikers. He greeted them politely, they were customers for the rest station, after all, but didn't slow down to chat. He wanted to get home and hand his grade sheet over to Mama. She always had some words of praise for his grades, no matter how good or bad they really were and there might even be an extra delicious lunch to celebrate the occasion of having finished another year of school.

He was lucky, Rüdiger thought, not to have the kind of parents Kurt did. Kurt got scolded for every two he brought home and on the two occasions he'd been unlucky enough to get a three there'd been much yelling, a tutor had been hired and Kurt had been confined to the house without TV so he could devote all his spare time to studying until his grades picked up.

Having personally witnessed part of the drama of Kurt's first three, Rüdiger had been quite apprehensive when he'd brought home one of his own on his first ever Schularbeit. But Mama had smiled and said: "Oh how time flies. My little boy's writing Schularbeiten already," and Opa had asked: "Why so glum? That's a fine piece of work."

"It's only a three," Rüdiger had pointed out.

"So?" Opa had said. "That's a fine grade. It stands for satisfactory. Your teacher is satisfied with your work. Anything that isn't a five is a good grade one can be proud of."

Rüdiger had never gotten a five yet, though it had happened to Mustafa, the son of the Turkish couple that worked for Kurt's father at the supermarket, a couple of times. Luckily Mustafa's parents hadn't been too bothered about it. It had to be a bit of a challenge to write a German composition, if nobody in your family could form a grammatically correct sentence in that language. Despite that Mustafa had been lucky enough not to end the year with a five in his grade sheet and have to repeat it while all his friends went on to the Hauptschule without him.

The rest station looked quiet when he arrived. Of course it wasn't lunchtime, yet. He was more used to getting home between two and three in the afternoon when a lot of hikers came here for lunch.

"Mama," he said walking into the kitchen. "I'm home."

"Is in back," Franzek the farmhand who was busy peeling potatoes answered in his usual bad German. "Go see. Is surprise."

"Oh really?" Rüdiger beamed.

Had Mama actually bought him a gift to celebrate completing the Volksschule? They didn't have money for unnecessary things often, and the event didn't seem big enough, but maybe she'd gotten him something practical or knit a jumper. Or, he thought as he crossed the kitchen towards the private part of the house, maybe she'd baked a cake. Cake seemed to be just right for the occasion. It wasn't expensive and everybody liked it.

Franzek smiled and nodded. "Is good surprise. And good no more school. Is harvest soon."

"Oh yes, Kurt promised to come help, too," Rüdiger threw over his shoulder knowing that Franzek meant to say that he was a big boy and would be a lot of help with the fieldwork.

Mama it turned out wasn't in the living room, but Rüdiger could hear her voice coming from upstairs where the bedrooms were.

"I'm sorry we're so unprepared," she was saying. "I wasn't expecting you this early this year."

"It's alright, really," came the happy answer. "And I can make my own bed. You don't have to ..."

And at that moment Rüdiger realised what the surprise was and it was much, much better than any cake in the world could be, better even than a new pair of jeans.

"Papa!" he exclaimed and almost flew up the stairs and into his Papa's arms.

"Rüdiger!" Papa called out just as loudly and swung him in a circle. "Oh my, you've grown so big I can barely lift you anymore!"

Which, Rüdiger suspected, was merely a polite compliment. He didn't think he'd grown all that much since Papa's last visit back in May when they'd celebrated his tenth birthday. Rüdiger wasn't a tall boy, though he was strong and healthy from working and playing in the fresh air of the mountains.

He was a big boy who knew how to make salads and sandwiches and serve them to the customers. He could carry a tray full of drinks from the kitchen all the way to the last table in the front garden (there were a whole three of them) without spilling a single drop and sometimes he even took customers' orders, though Opa wouldn't let him take the customers' money.

"You're too young to handle the change money," Opa would say. "Leave that to Franzek." Or to Mama or to Opa himself.

"Papa look, I finished the Volksschule," he said proudly and quickly slipped off his schoolbag to get out the grade sheet. "I'll be going to the Hauptschule in the bus next year."

A shadow of sadness flickered across Papa's face for a moment, a shadow that Rüdiger didn't understand. Was Papa disappointed that he didn't have only ones?

But then Papa was smiling again and praising his grades and Rüdiger realised how silly that idea was. Of course Papa didn't mind his twos. He'd probably just realised that Rüdiger wasn't a little child anymore and how much of his growing up he'd missed. That made Mama look sad like that sometimes.

 

For lunch that day they ate all of Papa's favourite foods to celebrate his arrival and afterwards Rüdiger led him to the stables to show him the kittens Miez, the black and white cat, had had a few weeks earlier.

The stable was quiet and empty, because the pigs and goats were outside and the cows were up on the alm where they spent their summers. The alm wasn't that far and Rüdiger always thought that they could have brought the cows home every night, but Opa said that it wasn't worth it unless they knew well in advance that a big storm was coming. Cows were fine spending the warm summer nights outside in the wind and rain.

"Do you still have your guardian angel?" Papa asked as he always did when he visited.

"Yes, Papa." Rüdiger pulled the little charm he wore on a chain around his neck out from under his shirt and showed it to Papa. It had been a gift from Papa when he'd been a baby and Rüdiger had worn it ever since.

"Very good," said Papa and smiled at him. "You'll tell me right away, if you ever lose it, won't you? We can't have you be unprotected."

"Of course, Papa," Rüdiger confirmed.

That too was something Papa asked every time he visited. It was because Papa worried about his safety, Mama had explained once and back then it had seemed to explain everything, but now that Rüdiger was older and wiser and had had four years of Religion lessons in school it didn't make as much sense.

"Papa?" he asked once they'd made themselves comfortable in the straw next to Miez's nest.

"Yes, Rüdiger?"

"One can't really buy an angel, can one? I mean, this little charm is really pretty and I don't want to ever lose it, but it can't protect me. There are so many people in the world, and surely only so many angels and they have better things to do than watch over one ordinary farm-boy. If they're watching over people, it must be the ones that need it most. If there aren't enough angels to prevent people from starving in Africa, surely they won't waste one on watching over me."

Papa sighed. "No," he admitted. "One can't buy angels. The charm is just a symbol, just like a little cross charm is a symbol of faith."

"So it just says that I believe in angels?" Rüdiger asked.

Papa shook his head. "No, it says that you are precious to me, and of course to Mama and Opa and Franzek as well. It says that we want you to have every possible protection and always be safe from harm. You do know that I love you, Rüdiger, don't you?"

He sounded so eager and worried that Rüdiger had to laugh. "Of course I do."

"And," Papa continued. "You know why I left you and your Mama?"

Rüdiger nodded. "Because you're a city person and you weren't happy here in the mountains and Mama wouldn't be happy in the city and Opa needs us."

"And it is in no way at all your fault," Papa added hugging Rüdiger tightly. "And it doesn't mean that I don't love you or Mama, because I do with all my heart."

Rüdiger hugged Papa back as hard as he could. "I love you too," he said. "Lots and lots and lots. Even when you're not here."

"See that's exactly what your guardian angel is for," explained Papa. "To show you that I love you when I'm not even here."

"I'll always wear it," Rüdiger promised. "It'll be as if you're hugging me all the time."

He'd have to find something for Papa, too. So he could hug him back all the time as well. Unfortunately he didn't have the money to buy a guardian angel, so it would have to be something he could make himself. There was wire for mending electric fences in the shed, but it was rough and ugly and probably wouldn't make a good necklace.

In school they'd made necklaces by putting nutshells and chestnuts on a piece of string, but adults didn't seem to like wearing chestnuts. He needed something small that he could tie on a piece of string so Papa could wear it under his shirt like Rüdiger did with his guardian angel.

For a while they were both lost in their thoughts, then Papa suddenly sat up straight and looked at Rüdiger very seriously.

"Would you prefer living in the city with me, Rüdiger?"

The question came as a complete surprise. Rüdiger had never even considered it before. He'd been to both Salzburg and Vienna with his parents to buy something he needed, sometimes just for fun and once when he'd been little to see a specialist doctor about a cough that wouldn't go away. The city was huge and loud and full of people with lots of exciting things to see and do. There were elevators and cars and taxies and busses and trains to make sure that city people never had to walk more than a few steps. City children could probably get up at past seven and still be in school at eight. They could go to the Gymnasium for free, because it was close enough to live at home. Maybe he'd even be able to go to the same school as Kurt and he could be with Papa everyday!

But what about Mama and Opa and the farm? Could he just leave them behind? They'd never be happy living in the city just like Papa would never be happy living on the farm.

"No," he said slowly. "No, I don't think so. I've always been happy here, so I'm probably a mountain person like Mama and Opa. I'd be unhappy in the city."

"And Mama and Opa would probably be unhappy, if I took you away," Papa agreed. "Yes, this was probably a stupid idea, but you should know that you can of course come and live with me, if you ever want to."

"Thank you, Papa," Rüdiger said. "But I belong here."

They wouldn't even get to spend as much time together as he spent with Mama and Opa now. City people went away to work all day after all and only came home in the evening. Rüdiger would either be alone in the afternoons or he might have to go to a Hort. He wasn't entirely sure which would be worse.

 

Papa couldn’t take the whole two months of summer holiday off from work, of course, but he did get three weeks and spent every weekend with them, helping with the harvest and spending as much time as possible with Rüdiger and Mama.

There was a lot of work to do during summer, though. It was tourist season which meant the rest station was almost always busy and of course the neighbours that helped them with the harvest deserved to get help with theirs in return.

It was on one of the days when he was helping out on another farm that Rüdiger first heard the news. Rüdiger was busy handing hay bales up to Mustafa, who was passing them on to his father Mehmet who was stacking them in the hayloft of the Oberberger’s when Mustafa suddenly asked: “So you not going to Hauptschule with us?”

“What?” Rüdiger said surprised. “Of course I am. It’s Kurt that’s going to the Gymnasium in the city.”

“No, no, I know from Kurt,” Mustafa insisted. “Everybody know. He not on list, but list say you other school.”

“Other school? What other school? What list?”

“List at Gemeinde. It say what Hauptschule children go. You ask Michi.”

So the next time they took a little break instead of going into the kitchen for some lemonade Rüdiger went to talk with Michi, another former and hopefully future classmate, hoping that he’d be able to clear up the mystery. Surely Mustafa must have misunderstood something. Probably some unfamiliar German word he’d mistaken for something else.

“No, really,” said Michi when Rüdiger found him and explained his confusion, though. “There’s a list of what schools students from the village have been assigned to on the public notice board. It says HS-MF, for Hauptschule Mitternfeld next to everybody’s names, except next to yours it says M-Gym. You didn’t know?”

“No, I don’t even know what that means. Why would they send me to a different school? Where is that even?”

But Michi had no idea. He only knew that HS-MF meant Hauptschule Mitternfeld because his older brother Flo who was already going there had told him. Flo hadn’t ever heard of an M-Gym either, though.

“He said Gym probably means Gymnasium, though, and maybe there were too many students starting this year and they didn’t have enough places so they had to assign you to some other school in the school district,” Michi explained.

“But then, wouldn’t it be another Hauptschule? I don’t want to go to the Gymnasium and there are others with better grades.”

“You should go to the Gemeinde and ask,” Michi’s father advised. “Students who go to the Gymnasium have free choice of school, so if they’ve really assigned you to one, your mother might have the right to refuse.”

“And if they won’t let her, she can write to the Bezirksschulrat and ask for a reassignment because of the overly long way to school,” said Frau Obernberger. “They should know better than to assign a child from such a remote farm to that other school. They should pick the student that lives closest to this M-Gym place and it can’t be anywhere near us, for I’ve never heard of any other schools here than the one in Mitternfeld.”

Both Mama and Opa were doubtful when they heard the news. They were convinced that it was just a prank that Flo and Michi had thought up to give Rüdiger a little scare and refused to go down to the Gemeinde just for that.

“We can stop by the notice board next time we’re down there anyway,” Opa said. “It’s not worth the trip.”

Papa on the other hand smiled and said: “Oh, then we’d best go and find out everything we can about your new school.”

And the next morning he and Rüdiger went down the hiking path hand in hand. It was a beautiful day and Papa was in a very good mood, laughing and joking all the way which made Rüdiger feel much better despite his worries. Maybe it really had been a prank, or it was a mistake after all. Surely Papa would be able to fix it.

First he had to show Papa where the notice board was and indeed there was a list of all of Rüdiger’s classmates except for Kurt and a long row of ‘HS-MF, HS-MF, HS-MF...’ next to it broken by one lonely ‘M-Gym’ next to Rüdiger’s name.

“Well,” Papa said still sounding perfectly happy and not at all worried. It was good to have him there to lean on. “Here it is. Now, we have to go to the Gemeinde, right?”

“Yes,” Rüdiger agreed. “They put up the list, Herr Obernberger said.”

The mayor wasn’t in this early in the morning, but the middle Frau Meier, the second of the three daughters of the Meier family, was drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette at her desk. She beamed at Papa when they came in, fluttered her eyelashes and asked what she could do for them. Did they want coffee? Biscuits?

“No, thank you, we already had breakfast,” Papa declined politely and explained the problem.

“Oh, you mean this wasn’t planned?” the middle Frau Meier asked sounding very concerned. “We just assumed it was some specialised school, maybe for music, because of the M. You’re sure your Mama didn’t apply for a scholarship for some special talent you have, Rüdiger?”

Rüdiger shook his head. “I don’t have any special talent.” Except for carrying heavy trays of full glasses without spilling the customers’ drinks, but he didn’t think there could be any scholarships for waiting tables.

“Do you have an address for that school, Frau Meier?” Papa asked and smiled at her in a way he usually reserved for Mama. “Or its full name at least? Anything that could help us find out how Rüdiger can get there?”

The middle Frau Meier shook her head. “I’m afraid not. We didn’t make the list, you see, we just get it from the Bezirksschulrat and put it up. I don’t know anything more. It’s always been just a formality. In all the years I’ve been here none of our children has ever been assigned to any other school than the Hauptschule in town.”

For a moment Rüdiger thought she’d leave it at that, but then she and Papa exchanged a few more smiles and suddenly she said: “I do have the phone number of the Bezirksschulrat, though. It’s no use calling them before nine, but if you can wait an hour or so, they ought to know.”

So Rüdiger and Papa went for a walk, Rüdiger visited Kurt and Papa strolled through the supermarket and bought a bag of bonbons for Rüdiger, which was more than worth the wait. Rüdiger didn’t get bonbons a lot as Papa was the only one in the family that ever bought sweets. Mama and Opa thought they were too expensive and that Mama’s biscuits and cakes tasted much better anyway.

He put one bonbon in his mouth, gave one to Kurt and stuffed the bag in his pocket to save for later and then they went back to the Gemeinde where they found the middle Frau Meier talking to the mayor in an excited tone.

The mayor took one glance at them and ushered them into his office.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to Papa. “I have no idea how this could have happened. And believe me the Landesschulinspekor will hear from me about this shockingly irresponsible behaviour of the Bezirksschulrat.”

Rüdiger clung to Papa’s hand, suddenly afraid even though he’d known the mayor all his life and usually thought him a very nice and approachable guy.

“Why,” Papa inquired cautiously once it seemed that the mayor had calmed down a little. “What did they say?”

“They can’t find this M-Gym on their list of schools and they don’t know who put Rüdiger down for it. They assume that it must be a typo and will inform us as soon as they figure it out. I have told them that Rüdiger already has an overly long way to school, but they refuse to accept it as an unbearable hardship until they know the actual distance between his home and his assigned school and since they don’t know what school they’ve assigned him to they’re not allowing that as grounds for a reassignment.”

“Well,” said Papa and squeezed Rüdiger’s hand reassuringly. “They’ve still got over a month until the start of school and we’re not as helpless as they might think. As soon as we get home I’ll call some of my friends in the city. One of them is sure to know somebody that can give these people a whole lot of trouble.”

But that turned out to be unnecessary.

 

They had only just reached the farm on their way back when a large black and grey something suddenly dropped out of the sky and straight at them. Rüdiger yelled out in alarm when it seemed to collide with Papa, but Papa didn't seem to be hurt. He just stood very still and tried to at the same time look at and pull his face away from the crow that sat on his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Rüdiger stared at it. He'd seen hooded crows before, when they'd gone to the Prater in Vienna, but never this close, and never at home. He'd been sure the only crows in this part of the country were the pitch-black rooks and they only came here during winter.

"It's a crow," he whispered nervously.

"Caw!" said the crow apparently not too impressed by that discovery. It had probably been aware of it for a while.

Papa flinched at the sound and pulled a face. "Please not right into my ear, bird."

"Caw!" the crow insisted lifting its right foot and the white object attached to it.

"There's a roll of paper stuck to its leg!" Rüdiger exclaimed. "Maybe it wants us to free it?"

Perhaps it was a tame crow that had escaped from a zoo. That would explain its species as well as its apparent lack of fear of humans.

"Can't hurt to try," Papa said. "It definitely can't be good for the poor thing. But I can't see what I'm doing, if it's sitting on my shoulder."

"I'll do it," Rüdiger said and slowly stretched out his hand for the paper trying not to startle the crow.

Papa bent his knees a little until Rüdiger could reach the crow more comfortably. The bird seemed completely unbothered, but it was a big bird with a massive beak that could probably do a lot of damage.

'It's smaller than a chicken,' Rüdiger told himself. 'You handle chickens all the time.'

But he knew chickens, especially their own, and could predict their reactions. This bird was a complete stranger and had a much bigger and stronger beak.

At a closer look the paper wasn't so much stuck as neatly tied to the crow's leg with a leather ribbon. Opening the knot took a while as it was quite tight and Rüdiger had to loosen it slowly. Luckily the crow held still for the most part only commenting with the occasional impatient caw. Judging from the way it looked at Rüdiger whoever had put the ribbon and paper on its leg had been much more competent at knot tying.

"There you go," Rüdiger told it when the ribbon finally came off. "You're free."

"Caw!" said the crow one last time and launched itself back into the air.

"You're welcome," Papa commented dryly. "Well, thanks or not, you've done a good deed," he added towards Rüdiger."

Rüdiger took a deep breath of relief and bent to pick up the roll of paper that had fallen to the ground. It belonged in the wastepaper basket after all.

"I wonder why someone would tie a piece of paper to a bird's leg," he said. "Well, unless the bird’s a pigeon."

"Maybe it's a message anyway," Papa suggested. "Lets have a look."

He held out his hand and Rüdiger gave him the roll, but held on to the leather band. If only he could figure out how to clean it without damaging it, it would make a much more elegant necklace than a piece of string. Franzek would probably know. He always took good care of the equipment in the tool shed and that included cleaning leather.

Papa unrolled the paper and stared at it wide eyed. "It really is a letter," he whispered excitedly. "A letter to Mama and Opa."

Rüdiger twisted his neck and stood on his toes to get a look at the letter as well, but the spidery and strangely ornate writing was very hard to read. "H-o-n-o-u-red Frau and Herr Zweigl, you have requested further information in connection with the school assignment of the minor Zweigel, Rüdiger ... It’s for you after all. Or maybe the middle Frau Meier said she was calling on Mama’s and Opa’s behalf?”

“They’re probably just assuming that your parents share your last name,” Papa shrugged it off, “But listen to this: ... based on the authority granted to me by his Highness the Magical Emperor I hereby ...”

“Magical emperor?” Rüdiger repeated incredulously. “What a stupid joke."

"I don't know," said Papa. "This is pretty expensive paper and the ink ... It definitely wasn't written with a simple fountain pen. And then the wax seal with the Austrian eagle at the bottom."

Rüdiger stared at the splash of hard red wax. It looked pretty messy to him and the picture engraved in it ... "That isn't the right eagle. The one on my grade sheet has only one head and where is the broken chain? He isn't even carrying the right objects."

This eagle had two heads one facing left and the other right. Both were sticking out their tongues just like the real eagle. They each wore a much more elegant crown than the eagle in the picture at school and above that another large crown. They only seemed to have one body and one pair of legs and instead of hammer and sickle the talons were clutching three long straight objects.

"It's the double-eagle," Papa said. "The eagle of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. He doesn't have the broken chain, because he hasn't freed himself from occupation, yet and he's holding the sword, sceptre and wand of the emp..." He broke off. "At least I suppose it is a wand since the letter is from the Magieschulbehörde and talking about a magical emperor, magic and wizards."

Both the double-eagle's heads turned forward in unison and nodded at Papa apparently confirming his conclusion.

"Magic and wizards, really?" Rüdiger asked. Magic, wizards and moving wax seals actually, but he didn't dare mention that last part in case he was hallucinating. This sounded crazier by the moment, crazier and more exciting. "What does it say? I didn't get to read that far."

"Well, it says that you are a wizard, which sometimes occurs in otherwise nonmagical families, and that therefore you are required by decree of the magical emperor to attend the Kaiserlich-Königliches Magiegymnasium to learn how to control and use your talent to your advantage and the glory of the emperor and good of the entire empire."

"Kaiserlich-Königliches Magiegymnasium?" Rüdiger repeated looking at Papa wide eyed. “But I don’t want to go to the Gymnasium. And just where is it?”

The letter did not give an address for the school, but there was one for the Magieschulbehörde, though even Papa didn’t seem all that eager to put that word on a letter and take it down to the post office.

 

"It can't be real," Mama said. "It's not logical. It's got to be a joke, some child's made up game."

The eagle shook its heads at her angrily.

"Then how do you explain the moving eagle?" Opa said. "It must have been done by magic."

The right head turned towards him to nod in confirmation while the left one kept shaking at Mama. Now that he'd had some time to get used to the idea Rüdiger thought he was quite amusing.

"Don't you get dizzy shaking so much?" he asked the left head.

Both heads turned to him and shook some more.

Rüdiger laughed.

"So what do we do about it?" asked Papa. "This says Rüdiger must go to this school and they claim to have the authority to assign him."

"But that's ridiculous. They can't force us," Mama snapped. “It’s too far away. Most likely in Vienna. Do they expect us to move there, or is it a boarding school? They can’t make us pay for boarding school.”

"They're not," said Opa who was reading through the letter again. "There’s no word about boarding or school money in here, just a note that school milk is 5 Gulden for the year. They can’t make us buy that. Rüdiger can bring his own milk fresh from our own cows."

"What's a Gulden?" Rüdiger asked. He'd never even heard the word before.

"A coin," explained Papa. "Before they introduced the Schilling our ancestors paid in Kronen and before that in Gulden."

"These people are way backward," Mama said. "Kaiserlich-königlich! Gulden and a penholder with a set of pens and inkwells! They seem to think we’re still living in the emperor’s days!"

"There must be a good reason, if they're ordering us like this," stated Opa.

"I guess it could be dangerous," Papa suggested. "Imagine a child experimenting with his magical talent and setting his house on fire. Or killing somebody, or summoning a demon and not knowing how to send it back. At the school there would be experienced adult wizards to teach the child how to use his magic responsibly."

"So you think that he should go?" Opa asked.

Papa nodded. "And I'll cover any unexpected costs. It can't be that much, if the other families can afford it too."

"You shouldn't have to ..." Opa started, but Papa cut him off.

"Why shouldn't I pay for my son's education? I want him to have the chance to develop all his talents."

"But how will he get there?" Mama asked. "And where in the world do you buy a wand?"

"But," said Rüdiger. "I don't want to go to the Gymnasium."

"Don't you want to learn how to do magic?" Papa asked. "Just look at this eagle. Isn't he cool?" The eagle heads nodded eagerly. "If you go to this school, they'll teach you how to make things like him."

Yes, learning magic did sound exciting and he wanted to see what else besides animating wax engravings it could do, but he’d have to go to some strange school all alone. His new classmates would all be complete strangers. All of a sudden he thought he understood Kurt much better.

"If only I knew somebody there," he sighed. "Then it might be alright."

Papa patted his shoulder. "I'll see what I can do. Tomorrow I'm going back to the city to ask everybody I know about this school and the currency. If they're not giving an explanation how to get there or where to buy the wand, it can't be that hard to find out. Somebody will know something and we’ll write to the Magieschulbehörde and ask for a way to contact the school. Maybe we can meet the headmaster or at least get a tour."

 

Frau Lehrerin – “Mrs Teacher” – as an address: Miss, else: female teacher  
Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)  
Opa – Grandpa  
Volkssschule – “folk-school” – in Austria: primary school  
Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12)  
Matura – A-levels, exam at the end of grade 12 or 13  
Mama – Mum  
Papa – Dad  
Tante – “Aunt” – Nanny in day care  
Kindergarten – day care  
Schularbeit – “school-work” – an hour long written test very important for the final grade first introduced in 4th grade where you have 4 in Math and4in German (called Klassenarbeit in Germany), after that 6 per year in German, Math and English, plus other subjects added later depending on school form, can be two or three hours long and as few as four a year in 11th and 12th grade.  
Hort – after school day care  
Gemeinde – town hall  
Bezirksschulrat – “district-school-advisor” – administration of a school district  
Landesschulinspekor – “province-school-inspector” – school inspector for the province (of Salzburg in this case)  
Magieschulbehörde – “magic-school-administration” (fictional)  
Kaiserlich-Königliches Magiegymnasium – “Imperial and Royal Gymnasium for Magic” (fictional)


	3. Chapter 2: Joachim and Kurt

Chapter 2: Joachim and Kurt

 

July 10th 1990

Joachim von Raifburg was playing a game of Wizard Hats with himself. Most other ten year old wizards would probably have found this boring, but Joachim was used to playing it this way. His parents were much too adult to enjoy children’s games like Wizard Hats and he rarely had the chance to play with other children.

There wasn’t an easy path to the next village from his family’s castle and the villagers weren’t supposed to know that it was even there, so making friends with village children was out. As for magical playmates the von Raifburgs rarely had visitors and it was even rarer that those visitors brought children of the right age. Not that Joachim was picky. He was quite happy to play with three year old girls, if they were available or let himself be pushed around by teenagers.

Still, most of his experience playing with others was when his parents agreed to a round of chess or Mensch-ärgere-dich-nicht or when Putz, the family Heinzelmann, had nothing better to do. For such an old and wrinkly little Heinzelmann Putz really wasn’t a bad playmate and sometimes he’d agree to do the silliest things just to make Joachim laugh.

Right now, however, Putz was busy cooking the family’s lunch, so Joachim had to amuse himself on his own.

It wasn’t so bad. His hats were used to such solitary games and tended to pull all sorts of antics as they chased each other across the board. A green hat jumped on top of a blue one to capture it and both let themselves drop to the side and rolled across the board squeaking and pretending it had been an accident.

“You silly things,” Joachim said as he picked them up. “You’ve got to be more careful.”

He put them back on the board and the blue hat carried the victorious green one back to their correct position.

Joachim was just about to restart the game when the perimeter ward sounded, announcing a visitor. This was such a rare occurrence that it actually took Joachim a moment to recognise the sound. Once he did though, he jumped up and raced out of the room and to the stairs. A visitor at the gate! Usually visitors came through the mirror, but this one must have taken a flying coach and even though they had one of their own this was exciting enough that Joachim had to see it before Putz took it to the coach house and the bulls to the stables.

Yet, when he reached the tower window that gave him the best view of the front courtyard there was nothing there to be seen. Where could the visitor have landed his coach? Surely there hadn’t been enough time for Putz to have taken it away already. Not if he’d been in the kitchen when the ward had announced the visitor.

Maybe the visitor had arrived on a broom and carried it inside? In that case they’d be in the entrance hall.

Joachim raced downstairs.

“Rudolf? How in the world did you …”

Joachim stopped halfway down the stairs. They hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Get here?” a happy voice finished his father’s question for him. “I walked, old friend, I walked.”

“Walked?” Karl-Josef von Raifburg rarely sounded shocked, but this seemed to have thrown him. “From where? Not the village!”

“The village,” the visitor named Rudolf replied in the same happy tone he’d used before. “It’s quite a nice hike on a sunny day. You should try it sometime.”

“Couldn’t whoever dropped you off there have flown you all the way up here?” now Papa sounded angry. Joachim ducked back around the corner feeling guilty even though he hadn’t done anything. Well, eavesdropping maybe.

“Nobody dropped me off,” Now the visitor’s voice had gone sharp and commanding. “I’m not an invalid Karl-Josef. I have a perfectly fine car to take me wherever I want to go.”

“It’s no good for up here, your Lordship,” Putz’s thin voice chipped in. “It’s not a good place for building roads. You’re better off with a flying coach than a car. That can go anywhere, yes.”

“And what would I tell my non-magical neighbours, good Heinzelmann?” the guest replied apparently back to his earlier good humour. “You don’t keep bulls and coaches in a modern city flat.”

“No you don’t, but you could have sent a crow,” Papa stated. “Putz could have fetched you in our coach.”

“Why, when I’m perfectly able to get here on my own?” the guest asked. “Now don’t make such a fuss, it was a nice hike.”

This guest, Joachim decided, had to be one of those modern wizards who lived entirely among non-magicals and even had non-magical jobs. They were usually commoners, though, so why would Putz call him Lordship and how was it that Papa was friends with him?

Curiously he inched forward again and slipped off a step catching himself on the next with a sudden bump. The stranger looked up at the sound.

“Is that little Joachim?” he asked. “Or not that little anymore, I should say.”

“Um … yes,” Joachim admitted blushing. “Sorry for stumbling in like this.” Oh dear, now he’d made a mess of things. If someone was a Lordship he was supposed to bow to them and greet them formally.

“Not at all, not at all,” the stranger shook his head. “This is your home after all. Your stairs and your hall. I’m the one who isn’t supposed to show up unannounced.”

Papa gave Joachim a significant glare, but luckily didn’t punish him in front of the visitor. “You are always welcome here, Rudolf, announced or unannounced. And Joachim is free to walk down the stairs, but he knows he isn’t supposed to run or he might slip and hurt himself. He is as you say not so little anymore and can understand that.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Joachim apologised. “I just … I thought I was meant to be down here to greet our visitor with you. I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Putz is meant to greet visitors when they arrive,” Papa said sternly. “He will entertain them until you are ready.”

“Sorry Papa,” Joachim repeated. They didn’t have visitors often enough, but he should know the proper protocol at his age.

“Ah, leave the boy alone,” the guest said. “Rules of protocol and children never mix well. How old are you now, Joachim?”

“I’m ten, um…” What was the proper title for this man? That he was a Lordship to Putz didn’t reveal his rank. Any nobleman would be a Lordship to a Heinzelmann.

“You can call me Uncle Rudolf,” the stranger offered.

“Um … thank you, Uncle,” Joachim said remembering his manners just in time. “I must have been too young to remember last time you were here.”

Uncle Rudolf smiled. “You were just learning to walk the last time I saw you, I believe. I have been remiss, but the weather isn’t always as nice as today and alas it is easier to meet your father in the city.”

“Are you a relative on Papa’s side of the family then?” Papa didn’t have any brothers, but maybe one of his grandparents or great-grandparents had had a rarely remembered sibling?

“Lets move this to the green sitting room,” Papa suggested. “We’ll be having coffee, and some cake or biscuits, Putz. Cocoa for Joachim and please inform the Lady that I have a guest.”

I have a guest, not we have a guest, Joachim noted. That meant that Mama was not invited to join them. If this was a private visit to Papa, he’d messed up worse than he’d thought. The punishment would probably be bad.

“Actually,” Uncle Rudolf explained once they’d made themselves as comfortable as possible on the old formal chairs in the green sitting room. “I’m not a relative at all, just a friend. Your father and I sat next to each other for several years in school, you see.”

“Oh, magic school?” Joachim exclaimed excitedly.

“Ah yes, that would interest you,” Uncle Rudolf realised. “At ten you’ll be starting there yourself in September, won’t you?”

Joachim nodded eagerly. “I got my Summoning last week. It had the Emperor’s Seal and all.” Then he blushed, realising that of course Uncle Rudolf had gotten his own Summoning long ago and probably didn’t think the Emperor’s Seal on a letter with his name in it was all that exciting.

“So are you eager to go and learn magic and make new friends?” Uncle Rudolf asked.

“Oh yes, I can hardly wait,” Joachim confirmed. “Did you make lots of friends there?”

“Some,” Uncle Rudolf said. “But then, much like you probably do, I knew several of my classmates already. The advantage of being born into a noble family with lots of connections.”

Joachim froze. Oh no, what if all the others already had friends and he ended up all alone?

“I’ve met some of them at events,” he admitted. “But they all knew each other.”

“The big houses are still avoiding us,” Papa explained surprisingly openly. “They’re not as forgiving as you are. And the small houses don’t want to be associated with us, of course. It might ruin their reputation.”

What if he didn’t find any friends at all? What if nobody wanted anything to do with an unknown boy from a disgraced house? Could he survive eight years of school being hated by all his classmates?

“Then maybe you’d like to meet a boy that will be in your class ahead of time?” Uncle Rudolf asked. “A boy who doesn’t know anybody else and doesn’t have a house or family to support, or to support him?”

“A commoner?” Papa interrupted sharply.

“From a non-magical family,” Uncle Rudolf met Papa’s eyes with an equally hard look. “Poor mountain farmers with no clue about our world. Friends of a friend of mine. The child will be lost without someone to guide him and from what I’ve heard of him he’s very loyal to his friends and will reward your kindness.”

“That’s about as far below our rank as you can get,” Papa stated.

“And haven’t you always said that we should show more kindness and acceptance to our inferiors and value their contribution to society?” Uncle Rudolf returned. “Deeds speak louder than words, Karl-Josef. Set an example.”

“An example that nobody will follow,” Papa said with a snort. “But beggars can’t be choosers and I guess the boy does deserve our help. So what’s his name then and where do we find him?”

“Rüdiger,” Uncle Rudolf said with a triumphant smile. “Rüdiger Zweigl.”

Most of the conversation after that was boring or went over Joachim’s head, but that was alright, because this Rüdiger was going to be his friend. His first real friend. Hopefully. Joachim couldn’t wait to meet him.

 

It was several days before Rüdiger’s Papa returned, but luckily he was still in time for the harvest and he brought back good news. He hadn’t been able to arrange a meeting with someone from the school, but had found someone who knew of one of Rüdiger’s future classmates.

“I don’t know his name yet,” he explained. “But he’s a boy from an entirely magical family. Both his parents went to the same school. They’ll have told him all about it.”

Rüdiger was a little worried that he had nothing to offer such a boy in return, but the very next day another crow arrived carrying a long letter. It was signed “your friend Joachim” and full of questions about Rüdiger’s family and Volksschule.

“He must be just as curious about our life as you are about his,” Opa said. “Maybe he’s never even been on a farm before.”

Rüdiger thought that was a ridiculous idea, but Joachim’s letter did say that he knew very little about non-magical people and asked strange things like what games they played and what they ate.

The crow stayed and looked at Rüdiger expectantly whenever he touched a piece of paper. So he sat down and wrote an even longer return letter describing his family and friends, what he’d just had for dinner and playing Indianer with Kurt, Michi, Flo and Mustafa out in the fields that day.

Then he asked about the school and where Joachim would go to buy a wand or to exchange Schillinge into Gulden.

The crow looked very happy when he clumsily tied his letter to its leg and took off the moment he let go. Rüdiger looked after it and wondered whether his letter would really reach Joachim. After all how could the bird know who he was writing to? It probably required some spell that he hadn’t learned, yet.

But two days later what might have been the very same crow fluttered into the public room of the rest station to deliver Joachim’s reply. Rüdiger sat at the nearest table to read and answer it … which might have been a mistake.

Kurt walked in halfway through hoping to get a chance to talk and play a little before they had to start harvesting again.

“Just a moment,” Rüdiger told him. “I’m almost done.”

“What are you writing?” Kurt asked trying to get a peek at the paper that held Rüdiger’s attention. “It’s the holidays!”

Even he didn’t have to study during most of the summer holidays.

Rüdiger leaned forward covering the paper with his upper body and arms. “A private letter to my pen-pal. Go, wait five minutes and I’ll be done.”

“I didn’t know you had a pen-pal,” Kurt complained and tried to pull Rüdiger’s arm aside. “And what are you writing that I can’t see? I thought I’m your best friend!”

“You are, but this is Joachim’s letter. He doesn’t let his best friend read my mail either. It’s not done!”

He couldn’t let Kurt see either of the letters. They both mentioned magic quite a lot.

“You’re badmouthing me, aren’t you?” Kurt yelled, now seriously angry.

“No, I’m not,” Rüdiger assured him. “I didn’t mention you at all.”

“Prove it!”

Usually Rüdiger had no problems holding his own in a scuffle with Kurt, but it was impossible to scuffle and keep the letter covered at the same time. He suffered several scratches and bruises and could hear the paper rustle and rip under him, but he just couldn’t let go. Maybe it was for the best, if it got torn. If it was really badly torn, Kurt wouldn’t be able to read it, if he won and Rüdiger could always write a new answer. He’d already read Joachim’s entire letter, but he’d still meant to keep it and read it again.

The crow that had been sitting patiently in a corner of the room was startled and fled out the window, but there was no time to worry about that. Kurt had managed to snatch a hold of a corner of Rüdiger’s letter. Rüdiger pressed his elbow down on that hand hoping to force him to let go. Kurt yelped in pain but clung on anyway.

“What doing!” Franzek suddenly appeared in the door. “Is for guests here! No make noise. You go make ready for harvest!”

It was, Rüdiger thought, probably the luckiest scolding he’d ever gotten.

By the time they returned from the fields Kurt seemed to have long forgotten the incident and they said their good byes as happily as they always did, but from then on Rüdiger always remembered to write his letters to Joachim in the evenings when it was too late for Kurt or any other visitors to arrive at the rest station and to never mention Joachim when Kurt was around.

All went well until Kurt came to invite him for a sleepover.

“Next Wednesday,” Kurt said. “Papa is going to Salzburg for a meeting and spending the night so Mama said it was a good time to have a guest.”

Rüdiger was delighted, but just as he wanted to accept the invitation Opa put a hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t go,” he reminded him. “Not that day. Joachim and his father are coming to take you school shopping, remember?”

“School shopping?” Kurt asked right away. “What do you mean school shopping? I thought this Joachim lives somewhere far away?”

“Tyrol,” Rüdiger said. “But he can visit, you know. It’s not that far by car.” Kurt didn’t have to know that Joachim’s parents didn’t have a car. He’d assume they did anyway. Every non-magical family had a car after all.

“And they’re going to drive all the way here and go school shopping? In the little paper shop in town?” Kurt challenged.

“Of course not. We’re going to the city to shop. They’re just going to stop by and pick me up.”

He wasn’t actually sure which city. Joachim had originally written that they bought most things they needed in Innsbruck, but later letters had also mentioned Salzburg and Vienna.

“What are you going to buy now anyway? You don’t even know what notebooks you will need, yet.”

“No,” Rüdiger snapped and stuck out his tongue at Kurt. “But the school sent a list of some other things I’ll need.”

“Oh, and why didn’t Michi get a list?”

Oh dear, if he lied now, Kurt could just go and ask any of their old classmates.

“Because Michi isn’t going to the same school as Rüdiger,” Opa explained trying to restore the peace. “Joachim is, so since they have the same list, they’re going shopping together. It’ll save us time and gas.”

“You see,” Rüdiger explained hastily. “I’m not going to the Hauptschule in town after all. they assigned me to another school instead.”

“What?” Kurt stated at him accusingly. “You said you couldn’t afford boarding school!”

“And we can’t,” Rüdiger insisted. “It isn’t a boarding school. They just had too many students, so they had to send me somewhere else.”

“That’s a lie,” Kurt stated. “There isn’t another Hauptschule anywhere near!”

“It’s not!” Rüdiger denied. “I didn’t know about it either, it’s ...”

“It’s a very small, experimental Gymnasium,” Opa supplied a more convincing lie. “Something like a Montessori school as far as I understand. Normally it’s very expensive, but they’ve got a few places free and are doing the Hauptschule a favour by letting Rüdiger have one for free.”

“My parents said there wasn’t a Gymnasium anywhere near enough to live at home,” Kurt told him angrily. “Where did that school suddenly come from?”

“Why should I know?” Rüdiger shrugged. “Maybe they’re not as popular as your school. I don’t care. I’m going to that school and Joachim is, too, and he wants to meet me. So we’re going school shopping together. It’s just one day. We can have the sleepover the next day.”

“I think it’s not recognised by university, or something like that,” Opa threw in hastily. “Because it’s experimental. If Rüdiger wanted to go to university afterwards he’d have to take additional exams for his education to be recognised. Your parents wouldn’t want that, but it doesn’t matter to us since Rüdiger wouldn’t have gone to university anyway.”

“You were supposed to go to school with me,” Kurt’s voice caught. Rüdiger hadn’t realised that he was crying. “I’m your best friend, not that shitty Joachim!”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Rüdiger shouted back. He’d felt sorry for Kurt for a moment, but how dared he say such things? “He’s my friend, too and you don’t even know him. It’s not his fault that we’re going to different schools. And besides, what difference does it make to you? I wasn’t going to go with you anyway!”

“Now, now,” said Opa taking each of them by one shoulder and turning them to face him. “It would have been nice if you could have gone to the same school and Rüdiger really wanted to, didn’t you?” Rüdiger nodded dutifully even though it wasn’t quite true and Opa continued: “But it’s too expensive and they wouldn’t have had any places left by the time we found out that Rüdiger couldn’t go to our Hauptschule.”

“You could have told me sooner,” Kurt sobbed. “And you’re still a liar, and I hate you.”

He tore his arm out of Opa’s grip and ran away from them towards the hiking path back into the village. Rüdiger wanted to follow him, but Opa held him back.

“Give him some time to come to terms with it. He’ll get over it in a day or two and be back here with a new date for that sleepover before you know it.”

For once Opa was wrong, though. Rüdiger didn’t see Kurt again before his shopping trip, even though he went down to the village to buy cleaning supplies for Mama and rang the bell on Kurt’s house both on the way there and back. Nobody answered.

At the supermarket he asked Kurt’s father how Kurt was.

“Pouting,” the man said with a laugh. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s just jealous because you already have a friend at your new school and he doesn’t know any of his classmates yet. He’ll get over it.”

Rüdiger nodded, but it still hurt that Kurt wasn’t talking to him. They had only a few weeks left before Kurt had to leave for boarding school and he didn’t want to waste them.

 

Joachim had written that he and his father would arrive by coach, which left Rüdiger unsure whether to watch the hiking route or the ‘road’. In summer the road was usually fine for the tractor and land rover, but cars built for paved roads would only get stuck. So Papa and most other guests would usually park in the village and take the hiking route up to the house. He had no idea about coaches, though.

“Maybe we should have just met up in the village,” Mama said as they returned the breakfast dishes to the kitchen. “It’s quite a walk, if they’re going to park there and how would they even find the road? They’ve never been here before and it isn’t marked.”

“Forget road,” said Franzek who’d just gone out to prepare the tables for today’s guests. “They here.”

“What,” laughed Rüdiger. “In the front garden?”

“Out back,” Franzek replied with a very odd look on his face.

Indeed, right between the house and the stables stood what had to be the coach. It didn’t look at all like the one Cinderella had in Rüdiger’s picture book, though. Instead it was shaped like a lying down egg with only two wheels and pulled by…

Well, they weren’t any breed of cow Rüdiger had ever seen, but probably cows, or maybe oxen, anyway. They were heavier-looking than their cows, with shorter legs, but longer horns and they had wings. Sort of yellowish, or maybe beige wings, on pure white cows. Rüdiger stared at them until a door opened in the side of the coach and a man and boy came out.

Both were wearing long robes that reminded him more of cartoon cultists or monks than wizards, but at least they’d kept their hoods down and the boy’s robe was a friendly light blue with an embroidered dinosaur or wingless dragon on the chest and a pattern of little suns or stars all over.

For a moment Rüdiger wished he could wear such a robe as well, but the other children would probably laugh at him and it would be very impractical in the fields or stables.

The man’s robe was a more sober grey with a design that reminded Rüdiger of the double headed eagle a bit, though it was obviously not the same. In addition to that he wore all sorts of ribbons and medals and a heavy golden necklace, which seemed an oddly feminine touch.

“Joachim?” Rüdiger asked hesitantly.

“Rüdiger?”

Luckily Lord von Raifburg didn’t seem to feel anywhere near as awkward as the boys. He greeted Mama and Opa kindly, if a bit condescendingly, but then they were just common farmers. Then he informed Franzek, that he needn’t worry about the bulls and coach as his own man, Putz, was going to take care of everything and they weren’t staying long enough that they couldn’t wait.

“Do all non-magicals wear clothes like that?” Joachim finally asked then blushed. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I know I should have greeted you before asking. It’s just that I’ve never been to a non-magical house before. Or a farm.”

“That’s alright,” Rüdiger decided. “I shouldn’t be staring at you either, but I’ve never met a wizard before and that’s a really pretty … er, is it a robe?”

“Yes, it’s one of my favourites. I just love the lindwurm design.”

So that was what the dinosaur-thing really was.

“Well, these are trousers and a t-shirt,” Rüdiger explained in return. “They are very comfortable for playing and working. Most children wear them all the time, but I’ve got a suit for special occasions. Like funerals, you know.”

“Oh, did you have a death in the family! I’m so sorry!”

“No, no,” Rüdiger laughed. “But two months ago old Frau Hintermeier from the village died and of course we all had to go to the funeral to show our respect. Wouldn’t do to desert the Hintermeiers in their grief, Opa said. Besides he’d known her all his life.”

“Ah, we’ve got to go to the reception whenever some important noble dies, too,” Joachim agreed. “Got to be seen, Mama says, so people don’t forget we’re part of society. Even if nobody wants us there.”

“Now, now,” the lord cut in. “Don’t go scaring poor Rüdiger with tales of sad events. There are a lot of fun things we wizards do as well.”

“That’s okay,” Rüdiger assured him. “I know funerals shouldn’t be fun. It wouldn’t do for everybody to laugh and be happy when someone’s dead.”

He wondered why grieving families wouldn’t want the von Raifburgs to come pay their respects, though. The Hintermeiers had kept saying how nice it was that so many people had come and how happy old Frau Hintermeier up in heaven must be to see how much the whole village had liked her.

Then again maybe wizard’s receptions weren’t quite the same as normal funerals. Or maybe the magical cemetery was really small and the close relatives didn’t want distant acquaintances stepping on their toes.

There were so many other things to think of that Rüdiger forgot about it soon anyway. Mama gave him an envelope that contained a lot of money and reminded him to watch it well. He’d have to exchange it for Gulden at the bank the von Raifburgs would take him to.

“And remember to spend as little of it as possible,” she said for the third time just before they got into the coach. “We’ll still have to pay for the notebooks and maybe other equipment and you don’t want to have to go to the bank every time.”

What she really meant was that this was all the money Papa had given them and she didn’t want to have to go and ask him for more.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Lord von Raifburg. “That should be more than enough for everything you need and once you have your own wand you’ll be able to go shopping on your own. I’ll show you how to use magical public transport once we get back.”

Inside the coach looked a little more like Rüdiger had expected. There were two comfortable sofas facing each other with a little table in the middle and windows at the sides. In front, back to back with one of the sofas, was a smaller wooden bench on which sat what looked like an oversized garden gnome from behind.

“Er … Grüß Gott,” said Rüdiger hastily. Was that the correct way to greet a … Was this a dwarf?

“Ah, good morning to you,” the creature returned. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Herr Zweigl is the young master’s guest, Putz,” Lord von Raifburg explained. “You will see that he is comfortable and well protected during his stay with us.”

“Of course, Mylord,” Putz assured him. “Does Herr Zweigl wish for a pillow or blanket for the trip?”

A pillow or blanket? Whatever for?

“I don’t think so, Putz,” Joachim answered in his place. “The seats are really soft enough and I doubt we will get cold in this weather.”

“But some cold drinks might not go amiss,” Lord von Raifburg said and tapped the table with a little stick. Three glasses containing a red liquid appeared. “Cold raspberry and lemon juice. Enjoy.”

“Um,” said Rüdiger. „I’m not really supposed to drink anything straight from the fridge. Mama says it’ll give me a throat infection.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Lord von Raifburg said tapping Rüdiger’s glass with his stick. “That’s easily fixed.”

And indeed when Rüdiger picked it up the juice was almost room temperature.

“To Salzburg, Putz,” Lord von Raifburg ordered. “Try to get us as close to the Getreidegasse as possible. There'll be lots of purchases to carry.”

“Yes, Mylord,” Putz said. Rüdiger saw his arms move and then there was a sudden jerk as the coach started moving, but the juice in their glasses didn’t even slosh about. “Does Mylord want me to come along to carry the bags?”

“No, we need you to watch the coach,” Lord von Raifburg decided and added to the boys. “You should never leave your coach unattended in Salzburg or Vienna unless you have use of a private stable. Coaches get damaged or stolen all the time and recently there have even been reports of attacks on flying bulls.”

Rüdiger was only half listening as he watched the farm shrink below him. They were flying! And the coach wasn’t dangling under the bulls, but still being pulled along behind them as if they were simply going upwards on a steep road.

So this was what the world looked like to a bird. He’d seen it on TV of course, but that didn’t seem nearly as impressive as real life and it had been filmed in unfamiliar places. Now he was looking at the same paths and village he’d known all his life and they looked so small and strange. He wasn’t even sure which house was which from this angle.

“It all looks so small and far away,” he said.

“It is far away,” Lord von Raifburg confirmed. “We’re pretty far up now, so we can clear the mountains. Not quite as high as your non-magical planes, though. The bulls wouldn’t like that, because the air gets too thin.”

“They can go that high, though,” Joachim announced proudly. “They just get tired faster.”

“But we don’t make them do that,” Lord von Raifburg said sternly. “It’s unnecessary and stupid, only exhausts the bulls too quickly and then you have to land and wait until they’re strong enough to finish the trip. Hurry slowly, the Romans said. Travelling at a decent height and decent speed evenly will get you there faster and more comfortably than rising to top heights or top speeds.”

Rüdiger nodded, feeling just a little disappointed. One shouldn’t rush cows, or the harvest either. Opa had taught him to work slowly and thoroughly and that way the cows remained calm and obedient and all the crops got harvested.

Joachim frowned, though. “But it’s really cool. Can’t we do it just this once? To show Rüdiger?”

“No,” said Lord von Raifburg.

But of course just flying was really impressive and if they went much higher it would probably get less interesting to look out of the window. Everything looked so small already that he couldn’t make out enough details.

 

Mensch-ärgere-dich-nicht – a board game  
Heinzelmann – a male Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign)  
Putz – used as a name here, but actually the infinitive of putzen (to clean)  
Papa – Dad  
Mama – Mum  
Opa – Grandpa  
Volkssschule – “folk-school” – in Austria: primary school  
Indianer – American Indians  
Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)  
Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12)  
Lindwurm – wyvern  
Grüß Gott – “greet god” standard greeting  
Herr – Mister (master if talking about the owner of a dog)  
Getreidegasse – a street in the centre of Salzburg


	4. Chapter 3: The Emperor’s Seal

Chapter 3: The Emperor’s Seal

 

The landing brought another jolt and then they were rolling through the big city. Now Joachim was excited about the view as well exclaiming at the sight of buildings and people so much that Lord von Raifburg had to admonish them not to point or whisper at non-magicals once they left the coach.

“I don’t mind you looking at the buildings like tourists, but with people it’s not just undignified, it’s insulting. They don’t point and whisper about our robes either.”

Rüdiger nodded. “Why aren’t they staring at the coach, though? That isn’t bad manners, is it?”

“The coach is charmed not to attract attention, of course. If they notice it at all, they’ll remember it as a car, or one of the tourist horse carriages they have here.”

And indeed a carriage pulled by two blond Haflinger horses clattered past them only a moment later.

“Aren’t you going to make us look like non-magicals, Papa?” Joachim asked.

“No, that won’t be necessary here,” Lord von Raifburg replied to Rüdiger’s disappointment. It would have been a cool piece of magic to see. “There are many opera houses and theatres around here and it’s festival season. People will just assume that we’re actors in costume. Now we’re about to enter the Getreidegasse where all the tourist shops are. It will be overrun with people so make sure you stay close to me and don’t get lost.”

Indeed the alley was full of people talking in all sorts of strange languages Rüdiger couldn’t identify. You had to walk carefully to avoid running into people who stopped suddenly to take photos or to admire the work of artists drawing and selling pictures right there in the middle of the street.

Rüdiger almost forgot that he wasn’t supposed to point at people when they walked past a group offering to count the number of hairs on their customers’ heads.

Lord von Raifburg led them past it all as if he saw it everyday.

“There,” he announced finally pointing at a small and dusty looking stamp shop. “See the seal above the door?”

“The double-eagle,” Rüdiger confirmed. “Like on my letter.”

“The Seal of the Emperor,” Lord von Raifburg corrected. “The double-eagle was also used for the Austro-Hungarian double-monarchy, but then it held a golden apple in one claw. The Emperor’s eagle has a wand instead. The difference is easy to spot, if you know what you’re looking for. If the eagle is holding a round object, the building isn’t one of ours. If all the objects are long and thin, you’re in the right place.”

“So all magical buildings are marked like this?”

“All the public ones. Private households are more difficult to recognise, but then your friends will give you their mirror addresses when they invite you. Shops on the other hand are hoping to attract random passers-by.”

The shop was even dustier inside. Rüdiger had to force back a sneeze when they entered. With all three of them in here, the front room also seemed tinier than it had from the outside. Every available surface was taken up by glass displays of stamps or rare coins. Whatever school supplies could they buy here? It certainly didn’t look like they had sports clothes or penholders.

“Good day, Mylord,” the old man behind the counter greeted Lord von Raifburg with an insincere smile that made Rüdiger want to turn around and leave. He didn’t mind that the shopkeeper ignored Joachim and him at all. “What can I do for you?”

“My young guest here wishes to buy Gulden,” Lord von Raifburg explained. “Show the good wizard the money you want to trade, Rüdiger.”

So this was the magical bank? Somehow Rüdiger had expected something more impressive, but then it was probably safer to hide a bank behind a poor-looking front. He took out the envelope Mama had given him and held it up over the counter. The bank wizard accepted it with a sneer, counted the money inside and then slammed several round little sacks onto the counter, money-bags like they had on TV in films about knights and Bible events.

Rüdiger reached out to take them, but Lord von Raifburg caught his hand.

“Count it out,” he demanded of the shop wizard who frowned, but opened the first bag and counted the coins into a new one.

It was a slow and boring process and Rüdiger really wished Lord von Raifburg hadn’t asked for it, but finally all the coins were counted.

“Fancy that,” Lord von Raifburg said. “You miscounted.”

The shopkeeper shot him a glare and added some more coins from a bag he kept under the counter.

“Always remember to make sales-wizards count out the money they give you, boys,” Lord von Raifburg lectured. “They are supposed to do it automatically, but with large amounts they are often too impatient and as you saw it’s very easy to make a mistake. Never just assume that a moneybag holds the correct amount.”

The moneybags took up a lot more space than the envelope had and Lord von Raifburg had to charm Rüdiger’s pockets so he could carry them all.

The shopkeeper’s greeting as they left sounded even less friendly than the one when they’d entered. Hopefully there was another magical bank somewhere near the school. Rüdiger didn’t like the thought of returning to this one when the money he’d just bought ran out.

Their next stop looked a little more appealing. The plaque with the Emperor’s Seal seemed strangely out of place above the colourful modern logo of the Libro chain.

Rüdiger had visited a Libro once before when he’d visited Papa in the city, though it had of course been a different store. This one didn’t look all that different. The colour scheme and furniture were the same, even if the shape and layout weren’t. Like the other Libro this one offered books, records, CDs, videos, office and school supplies, but when he headed in that direction Lord von Raifburg once again held him back.

“This way,” he said and pointed at a sign reading ‘personnel only’.

A storeroom? What were they supposed to do in there?

Only when they reached the door did Rüdiger realise that the double-eagle on the advertisement next to it was definitely the Emperor’s eagle and not that of the double-monarchy despite the Sissi book under it. Magical shopping trips apparently required a lot of attention for well hidden clues.

The door led into a short, dark corridor full of cleaning tools, but there was another door at its end and through it they walked into what reminded Rüdiger a lot of the paper shop at home. Except that this one looked a bit more old-fashioned with all the ink bottles and …

“Penholders!” he exclaimed. “It said we’d need a penholder on the list.”

“Take several,” Lord von Raifburg recommended. “They tend to roll off desks and get lost and you’re not allowed to use a fountain pen. If you have spares, you don’t need to worry about that and you can help out your friends when they lose theirs.”

Rüdiger nodded. He remembered very well how Kurt had gotten in trouble with the teacher in second grade when he’d lost his fountain pen and written the school exercise in pencil. Neither of them had been entirely sure what Kurt should have done in such a situation, because ball point pens were forbidden entirely, and not writing your exercise, or even not writing all of it earned you the same scolding and punishment as writing it in pencil had earned Kurt. Maybe this explained it. Maybe they’d been expected to have a spare fountain pen for such emergencies.

The cheapest penholders were very pretty ones decorated with multicoloured swirls. Rüdiger picked out three that looked particularly interesting while Joachim eyed some more expensive pure black ones.

“Are you sure you like those?” Rüdiger asked him.

“They’re probably better quality than yours,” Joachim pointed out.

That might have been true, but Rüdiger was used to having cheap things. Usually they were fine as long as you were careful with them so there was no need to waste money.

“It’s not worth it, if we’re just going to lose them anyway,” he pointed out. “Besides the cheap ones look much better.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Lord von Raifburg said. “Take whichever you want.”

“What will the other children think, if we show up with the colourful ones?” Joachim asked. “Isn’t that childish?”

Lord von Raifburg shrugged. “They were very popular when I was in school, but then they also were new then. I think most of your classmates will have them.”

Joachim nodded and grabbed a handful of the cheap penholders without choosing or counting them. “Okay then. Penholders done.”

Lord von Raifburg nodded and called: “Heinzelmann!”

“Good morning, your Lordship. What can we do for your Lordship?” What looked like a younger version of Putz ran up to them right away.

Rüdiger had expected Heinzelmännchen to be smaller. Hadn’t Nils Holgerson caught one in one hand? But then maybe Nils Holgerson was just a story made up by non-magicals who didn’t know any better. At the very least the cartoon probably had been made by non-magicals.

“Two baskets,” Lord von Raifburg ordered. “One for each of the young masters.”

“Of course, your Lordship, right away,” the Heinzelmann promised and indeed returned with two shopping baskets almost before Rüdiger realised that he’d left.

He held one out to each boy and they carefully placed their penholders inside.

“Thank you,” Rüdiger said a little awkwardly. Usually he was the one carrying the shopping basket for Mama. He’d never had anyone do it for him before.

“No need,” the Heinzelmann returned beaming with happiness. Apparently he didn’t get a lot of thanks for his services.

“You’ll need pens to go with the penholders,” Lord von Raifburg reminded them. “I suggest you take at least one of each tip size and several of the usual writing pens.”

The pens were kept in a large wooden box with compartments for different sizes. Next to the box there was a stack of little paper bags to put them in.

“Do we really need that many?” Rüdiger asked a little worried. He wasn’t supposed to spend too much money after all.

Lord von Raifburg shrugged. “Probably not, but the list doesn’t specify the size and they’re only one Kreuzer each.“

“Kreuzer?” Rüdiger was confused. He’d only ever heard that word in a song before. “I thought we’re paying in Gulden?”

Lord von Raifburg laughed. “We are. Sixty Kreuzer are one Gulden.“

“Oh!” Well, that really sounded cheap enough and with a little luck the pens would last him through all four school years.

Next they bought little pots of ink in several different colours. The most frequently used colour according to Lord von Raifburg was black and not blue like they’d used in primary school.

“But will my Killer even work on that?” Mama had said that it only worked on the boring old royal blue ink cartridges that everybody used.

“Your what?” Lord von Raifburg asked sounding slightly alarmed.

“My Tintenkiller,” Rüdiger explained, but the wizard looked as puzzled as before. “You know, that little pen that looks like a felt pen and makes ink disappear when you write over it.”

Apparently the von Raifburgs still didn’t understand, but the Heinzelmann smiled.

“No need to worry about that, young master,” he said. “You will be able to erase it with your wand now. Much more useful.”

Ah yes, the wand. He’d been looking forward to buying his wand, but Lord von Raifburg’s little stick didn’t look as impressive as Rüdiger would have expected. Were they all like that?

“Okay, then I won’t need a Killer and I already have pencils,” he reported.

“They have to be lead pencils,” Lord von Raifburg corrected. “With real lead. I doubt you have one of those. The non-magicals don’t usually sell them anymore, because they are poisonous.” He handed each of the boys two normal boring looking pencils. “Do not lick these, or chew on them, or put them into your mouths.”

“Yes Papa,” said Joachim.

“Yes, Lord von Raifburg,” said Rüdiger.

“Good,“ Lord von Raifburg stated sternly. “Now, rulers.”

“Will a nonmagical one do?” Rüdiger asked more carefully this time.

“Not unless it can show you the length of an ell.”

Rüdiger shook his head. At least he didn’t think those strange things called inches that one side of his ruler could measure had anything to do with ells. He wasn’t sure what they were, though. Bigger than centimetres obviously, but that was all he knew.

So he got a magical ruler. Lord von Raifburg demonstrated how to tap it with one’s wand and state the desired length to make it light up on the scale.

There were only three different kinds of notebooks available, differing in size, but not thickness and all of them blank. Maybe, Rüdiger thought, this was just because it was too early. Nobody knew what notebooks they’d need yet so the shop wasn’t expecting anyone to buy them.

“Take two,” Lord von Raifburg recommended. “You’ll need to write down what notebooks to buy and you’ll also need a Mitteilungsheft. Those are always A5 sized.”

So Rüdiger bought two blank A5 notebooks and clear plastic envelopes for them even though he much preferred writing on lines.

 

After Libro they went to a small souvenir shop that sold what Lord von Raifburg referred to as magic supplies in an actually slightly larger backroom.

A girl in a frilly pink robe was trying out wands when they arrived. Her mother only glanced at Lord von Raifburg’s robe then turned away with an haughty sniff.

Lord von Raifburg and Joachim bowed to her anyway and Rüdiger did his best to imitate them, though he doubted it looked anything near as graceful.

“Let’s pick out your mirrors and cards first,” Lord von Raifburg suggested. “The purchase of a wand takes time and the first one is particularly hard to choose.”

He led them past two shelves full of bottles with strange liquids in every colour imaginable and jars full of powders and unidentifiable objects. Rüdiger was torn between fascination and disgust when he realised that some jars on the lowest shelf contained living maggots.

The mirrors and cards were on a different shelf, though, alongside lucky pendants and enspelled wristbands.

“Do those really work?” Rüdiger asked.

“Of course,” Lord von Raifburg assured him. “These cheap pendants aren’t grand life saving magic, but they’ll give you little strokes of luck, like finding a lost coin or getting the last one of a sold out item in a shop.”

After having bought all his writing utensils for much less than that amount Rüdiger didn’t think that one Gulden really was that cheap, but on the other hand it was a lot more than his guardian angel actually did and he still had a lot of money left. Mama wouldn’t have to know that he’d bought anything more than he’d had to and this was a perfect gift for Papa.

Lord von Raifburg picked two sets of illusionist’s mirrors off the top shelf for them, but told them that they had to pick their tarot cards themselves.

As Rüdiger and Joachim looked at the different designs of the various card sets trying to make up their minds he bent down towards them as if trying to see the cards as well and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The girl getting her wand will be in your class. Can you identify her, Joachim?”

“Margarete zu Dunkelbrunn,” Joachim replied without hesitation or a glance back in the direction of the girl. “Niece of the Duke of Salzburg, but not likely to inherit anything as there are several male heirs. She’ll try to gain the favour of the princess and aim to marry high?”

“Very good,” Lord von Raifburg praised. “Try not to antagonise her. The family is influential and doesn’t like us.”

“An actual Duke?” Rüdiger asked wide eyed.

“We should be Dukes as well,” Joachim said. “If only …”

“Hush,” Lord von Raifburg admonished. “Never hold ambitions above your station. It doesn’t end well. You will inherit the family castle and fortune and that’s quite impressive enough. Be grateful for what we’ve got.”

“I’ll inherit Opa’s farm,” Rüdiger commented. “It might not be as big and impressive as a castle, but it’s home and our family has lived there for generations.”

“There you see,” Lord von Raifburg said. “Be humble and treasure what you’ve got. Farmers understand that.”

Joachim started to say something more, but was interrupted by a shout from the front of the room.

“Yes!” frilly Margarete zu Dunkelbrunn cheered. “Bullfeather, just like Papa! Didn’t I tell you I’d have a wand just like his?”

“Margarete!” an outraged, but not nearly as loud, voice stated. “Stop this noise at once. That is no behaviour for a frail young lady of rank.”

“I’m not …”

“Margarete,” the voice insisted with a threatening undertone.

“Yes, Mama. I’m sorry, Mama,” Margarete intoned, not even trying to sound sincere.

The boys exchanged an amused glance. Maybe Margarete zu Dunkelbrunn wouldn’t be nearly as annoying as she looked.

Rüdiger hastily chose a card deck that appeared to have some kind of animal-theme and hurried towards the front desk. There they had to wait until the zu Dunkelbrunns had paid for their purchases, but then finally it was their turn.

“Your birthdays?” the shop-wizard demanded a bit gruffly and without greeting them first.

“23rd May 1980,” Rüdiger said. Was there an age limit for owning a wand?

“9th March,” Joachim answered, but the sales-wizard didn’t ask for a year.

Instead he turned around and pulled out two large and flat drawers from a cupboard behind the register and put them side by side on the counter.

“Chestnut,” he said to Rüdiger pointing at the one on the left “and weeping willow,” to Joachim. “Now, why don’t we try the schabbockbristle cores first,” he suggested handing each of them a wand and ignoring Lord von Raifburg’s frown. “Powerful wands for those inclined towards Stabkunde and Spruchkunde.”

Rüdiger hesitantly accepted the little stick. Was it safe to touch them, if you had no idea how they worked? “Um … what do I do to try it?” he asked. “I don’t know any … er … Stabkunde or Spruchkunde, yet.”

The wizard laughed. “How cute,” he sneered. “You wave it kiddy. If it’s the right sort of wand, it’ll react.”

Rüdiger blushed, ashamed for not having known, even though he didn’t see how he could have. Luckily the wizard’s attention was focussed on Joachim now, who was waving his wand enthusiastically, but with no result. Rüdiger quickly imitated him, but did no better.

“No,” said the sales-wizard. “Apparently the schabbock doesn’t suit either of you. We’ll need something else. Your grandfather used a nachtkrappfeather wand with excellent results, I believe.”

“Joachim doesn’t take after my father at all,” Lord von Raifburg said.

“But let’s try them anyway,” the sales-wizard insisted. “If it doesn’t suit either boy, at least it’s out of the way. Here you go, boys, nachtkrappfeathers for clever enchanters.”

Something about the way he said it sounded unpleasant and Lord von Raifburg didn’t seem to like those wands either. Rüdiger wondered what could be wrong with them, but gave it his best try anyway. Again nothing happened.

“Ah, you were right, it seems,” the sales-wizard declared, favouring Lord von Raifburg with one of his unpleasant smiles. “Maybe the klushundclaw wands will do it for one of them. The wands of the great seers.”

This sounded exciting and Rüdiger took the wand eagerly, but once again there was no reaction.

“Not the klushund either,” the sales-wizard stated and returned the wands to their places in the drawers. “But then it is a rather unpleasant creature anyway.”

Rüdiger almost asked what a klushund actually was, or a schabbock or nachtkrapp for that matter, but he still remembered the man’s laughter at his earlier question and didn’t dare make a fool of himself again.

Instead he obediently accepted a wand with an arnicastem core, which according to the sales-wizard was very versatile.

“For duelling spells as well as healing, many herbalists and brewers favour arnicastem wands as well. They have a closer relationship with magical plants than creatures.”

Rüdiger waved his with no success, but much to his amazement Joachim managed to produce a flash of light and little golden sparks.

“Ah, a dueller,” the sales-wizard said.

“Or a healer,” Lord von Raifburg reminded him.

“Or maybe a brewer, yes,” the wizard allowed. “Excellent, excellent. Now let’s see about length and thickness.”

Joachim had to try several more wands. The results all looked the same to Rüdiger, but apparently this was more about what the wand felt like to Joachim. As he watched he grew more and more worried. Would he ever find the right wand core? How many different kinds could there be left in the drawer?

Then finally Joachim made his choice and the sales-wizard turned back to Rüdiger.

“So then, not a fighter or a healer, are you,” the man said. “Then you’re probably the athletic type. Try this bullfeather wand.”

But once again nothing happened. Maybe it was all a mistake and he couldn’t do magic after all? What would the other children in the village say, if he got transferred back to the Hauptschule after telling Kurt that he was going to a Gymnasium?

“Be patient,” Lord von Raifburg said as Rüdiger reluctantly gave back the wand. “Some matches are hard to find and it’s more difficult to guess for children of non-magical families. With wizardborn children the talents and corresponding cores often run in the family. Could we see a lindwurmscale wand maybe?” he asked the sales-wizard. “He might have a gift for Formen und Wandeln.”

But that wand didn’t work either.

“There are some special orders in the back. Unusual foreign imports like dragon heartstring and unicorn hair,” the sales-wizard remarked as he got out the next wand. “He can try those, if all else fails. They’re reserved, though. I’d have to order another and it might not arrive in time for school’s start. And we don’t do strüpphair wands.”

It was somehow comforting to know that there were still other options besides those in the drawer, though Rüdiger didn’t like the thought of having to start school without a wand. Would the teachers understand? And what if he needed a strüpphair wand? What was wrong with those and where would he have to go to buy one?

He almost asked when he accepted the next wand, but when he waved this one a tiny purple spark shot out of its tip.

“That’s it!” he cheered. “I found it after all!”

But the adult wizards were just staring at him open-mouthed. Was something wrong? Rüdiger quieted and looked up at Lord von Raifburg fearfully.

“Royal purple,” the sales-wizard gasped. “How can that be?”

“It was just a very small spark,” said Lord von Raifburg, suddenly regaining his composure. “I suppose, that it must mean that young Rüdiger is destined to do the Emperor a great service. That is an erdhuhnfeather wand, isn’t it?”

“Chestnut and erdhuhnfeather, yes,” the sales-wizard replied.

“Erdhuhnfeather for loyal friends and protectors,” Lord von Raifburg explained. “You might serve in the Emperor’s guard someday.”

But he was going to be a farmer!

 

“What is an erdhuhn anyway?” Rüdiger asked a little later once they’d left the souvenir shop.

“Don’t you have one on your farm?” Joachim asked surprised. “I thought all farms have them.”

“I don’t think so,” Rüdiger said. “Our chickens are mostly Altsteirers. I’ve never heard of Erdhühner before.”

“They’re not the sort of chicken you keep in your henhouse,” Lord von Raifburg explained. “They are extremely shy creatures and rarely allow non-magicals to see them at all. But as far as I know, an old farmhouse like yours ought to have one. They live in dark corners of the living rooms. You can hear them clucking when it’s very quiet in the house. Don’t try to catch it or even search for it, if you ever hear yours, though. You’re more likely to scare it off and it is the guardian of your house’s good luck.”

“Seeing an erdhuhn is bad luck anyway,” Joachim added.

“Now, that’s just an old superstition,” Lord von Raifburg said. “But you do risk losing your family’s luck and that can have terrible consequences. So leave that erdhuhn alone.”

“But what does it look like?” Rüdiger pressed. This creature’s feather was in his wand after all. He felt he needed to know.

“Well, just like the name says, it’s an earth-coloured chicken,” Joachim answered. “I bet it looks really boring.”

But that meant that he’d never actually seen one either, so Rüdiger remained doubtful.

The next place they came to that bore the Emperor’s eagle was a small Kaffeehaus, but Lord von Raifburg marched right on past it and led them to a costume shop instead.

“You have swimming trunks, Rüdiger?” he asked.

“Yes, we only bought them this year.”

“Skis and skates?”

Rüdiger nodded, though the skis were old and well used and the skates had been bought second hand. They’d have to do, even if they weren’t pretty.

“I don’t have skates,” Joachim announced.

So the first thing Lord von Raifburg did when they entered the costume shop was to ask a salesgirl to show them skates. Apparently here the wizards didn’t even bother to use a separate room from the non-magical customers.

“The boys will also need protective gloves and leather aprons,” he added. “House shoes and sports clothes.”

“I still have the house shoes and sports clothes from primary school,” Rüdiger remembered.

“Those clothes will hardly be appropriate,” Lord von Raifburg said. “And neither will your other non-magical clothes. You want to look like a proper wizard, don’t you?”

Well yes, he did, but did he have enough money for an entire new wardrobe?

In the end he agreed to buy two cheap robes and a cloak as well as new winter boots which he did need anyway, but he’d keep his old shoes and house shoes. He could replace them with magical ones once he outgrew them.

All the childrens’ robes had pretty designs, though those with such elaborate ones as Joachim’s lindwurm were rather expensive. Rüdiger chose one with little glittering stars and planets and one printed with winged bulls instead.

To his surprise the sports clothes turned out to be robes as well, though shorter than knee length and worn over tights. They also weren’t as loose or heavy as the normal robes.

“And schoolbags of course,” Lord von Raifburg announced when the exhausted salesgirl had finally managed to fold up everything.

Again Rüdiger wanted to protest that he already had a schoolbag, but the sales-witch led them to a display of leather bags that could be carried either by a long strip over one shoulder or a grip at the top like an adult businessman’s briefcase. No sign of the large, colourful schoolbags worn on the back that Rüdiger was used to, nor the soft backpacks some older children had.

“But they are so small,” he said. “Will they really fit all our books and notebooks?”

“Why would they need to? You’ll keep most of them in your desk or the class cupboard anyway.”

Rüdiger wasn’t that sure. In primary school it had been strictly forbidden to leave anything in the small storing place in their desks. The seats of their chairs had to go in there at the end of the last lesson so the caretaker didn’t have to lift them when sweeping the floor. And leaving notebooks in the class cupboard where every student - except little Lisa who’d come too late and hadn’t found any space left - had had a stack of books had been forbidden, because you’d forget the one you were supposed to write your homework in.

“What do you know, all done,” Lord von Raifburg announced after one last check of the school’s list. “And faster than I expected.”

“Oh, can we go for ice-cream then?” Joachim pleaded.

“Well, maybe,” Lord von Raifburg said picking up his share of their many shopping bags and leading the way out of the costume shop. “If there aren’t too many people at the …”

He stopped both talking and walking so abruptly that the boys almost collided with him. For a moment he just stood there staring at something across the road. Rüdiger tried to find what it was, but all he could see through the crowds of much taller non-magicals were occasional glimpses of someone wearing grey fabric with some black design on the chest. It looked suspiciously like a wizard’s robe, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Back to the coach,” Lord von Raifburg ordered. “Now!”

“What is it, Papa?” Joachim asked as they hurried through the street back to where Putz was waiting with the coach. “What was there?”

Lord von Raifburg only shooed them into the coach and shook his head at Putz when the Heinzelmann hurried to take the shopping bags off his hands.

“Shouldn’t we put the bags in the luggage compartment?” Joachim suggested.

“No time,” Lord von Raifburg told both him and Putz. “Get in! Putz, take us back to the farm quickly! And summon Shadowwing!”

“Right away, Mylord,” the Heinzelmann said with a deep bow and jumped back onto his bench.

The coach took off the moment they were all inside and it took Rüdiger a minute or so to settle down and sort all his bags into a halfway comfortable position. Meanwhile Lord von Raifburg had produced paper, ink and penholder from somewhere and was writing furiously.

“So what did you see?” Joachim asked again.

“Somebody who shouldn’t have been there,” Lord von Raifburg replied hardly glancing up from his letter. “Somebody we mustn’t be seen around ever.”

He tapped the letter with his wand once, folded it up and then dripped a red liquid from a bottle he pulled out of his robe onto it. A complicated movement of his wand followed by another tap sealed it and he finally relaxed, though only for a moment.

“Where is Shadowwing, Putz?” he demanded impatiently less than a minute after finishing his letter.

“On his way, Mylord,” the Heinzelmann replied. “It’s a long distance.”

Longer than the one back to the farm it appeared, because by the time they landed Shadowwing, whatever that might be, hadn’t arrived.

Lord von Raifburg handed the letter to Putz. “If Shadowwing comes while I’m still inside, don’t waste any time by informing me. Have him deliver this to the Lord Master of the Guard right away.”

Putz paled, but nodded.

But that turned out not to be necessary. When Lord von Raifburg took Rüdiger and Joachim to the full body mirror in the corridor to show them how to use magical public transport and tapped his wand against the mirror it only responded with a long, painfully high ring.

“No connection installed,” he groaned. “But of course it wouldn’t be. I should have realised.”

“Then override it,” Joachim suggested.

But Lord von Raifburg shook his head. “While there is an override code to use an unconnected mirror to mirror to the nearest public mirror station it is only to be used in emergencies and this isn’t one. Besides you need a proper connection anyway. I’ll send you the proper form tomorrow. You just need to fill it out and tell Shadowwing to take it to the nearest Magipost office and they’ll send someone over to install the connection. Don’t forget to keep the receipt. You might be able to get a refund for the installation fee via the school as Rüdiger has no other way to get to school.”

And five minutes later they were gone. Rüdiger sighed, but then remembered all his new purchases and went to unpack and show them to his family. It was a pity that Papa had to work that week, but he’d promised to visit one last time before Rüdiger left for school. He could show him all the magical things and give him the pendant then.

 

Kurt finally showed up again the next morning.

“So,” he said sounding very self-satisfied. “Your precious Joachim didn’t even come.”

“What do you mean?” Rüdiger asked confused. “Of course he did. We went to Salzburg and bought … well, writing utensils and sports clothes and things.” He couldn’t even tell Kurt what he’d bought and seen, he realised. Well, most of it at least. “There were people there who count hairs.”

“He didn’t come,” Kurt insisted. “You’re just making it all up. But I know! I watched the road all day and there wasn’t a single car from Tyrol!”

“Oh yeah? You had nothing better to do than watch the road all day? For hours and hours and hours? How pathetic.”

“Pathetic or not, they didn’t come,” Kurt crowed.

“Yes, they did,” Rüdiger shouted back. “You just missed them.” How could he explain that away?

“I did not!”

“They did come, Kurt,” Mama said. “Maybe you were eating at the time, or on the toilet.”

“Yes, or did you wet yourself right there at the window?” Rüdiger challenged.

“I did not!” Kurt yelled all red in the face, though Rüdiger wasn’t sure whether it was from anger or embarrassment. “You damned asshole!”

“That’s enough, Kurt!” Mama scolded. “I won’t have you using such words in our house. Now stop shouting before you scare off all the guests. Make up and go play outside. There won’t be many more beautiful days like this before you have to leave for school. Don’t waste it.”

They did go outside and play for a while, but somehow it didn’t feel the same as before. Something between them had changed and Rüdiger didn’t feel as comfortable around Kurt as he used to, though he didn’t know why.

 

“You could have warned me,” Karl-Josef remarked glancing across the small Kaffeehaus table at his friend.

“Warned you?” Rudolf continued to absent-mindedly stir his coffee. “Of what?”

“Your poor little non-magical child shot royal purple sparks the moment he touched his wand. So how could that have happened?”

“He what?” Rudolf started upright dropping his spoon.

“Where did you really find the boy?” Karl-Josef asked. Sometimes you had to be patient with Rudolf.

“I told you all I can,” Rudolf answered. “Friend of a friend. Maybe I shouldn’t be officially involved with him, though.”

“So I haven’t seen you?” Karl-Josef said straight faced.

“Of course you have. You wouldn’t bother me with such things as your son’s school-mates, though, would you? Is he really in magic school already?”

“Right,” said Karl-Josef and wondered what he was going to say if anyone asked him how Joachim had met Rüdiger.

“You didn’t fill the poor child’s head with any nonsense about those sparks, did you?”

“Royal purple and an erdhuhnfeather wand. A future royal guard? It seems the obvious interpretation and I didn’t see why the boy shouldn’t know.”

Rudolf nodded thoughtfully. “Erdhuhnfeather. That is good. A fine wand no doubt. Anything else remarkable?”

“I assume you heard about my report.”

“I did,” Rudolf’s eyes were uncharacteristically hard and cold. Karl-Josef hadn’t seen that look in a long time.

“He was right there in the open alley, Rudolf, not even trying to hide.”

“The community has been alerted. He will find it much harder to move about now.”

“He couldn’t have been there in the first place, if he didn’t have allies in the community.”

“There will always be plots and traitors,” Rudolf stated calmly. “As sure as the sunrise. He is but one of many players in the game. But let’s talk of more pleasant things. Just who is on staff at the school these days anyway? Any of our old teachers left?”

Karl-Josef sighed and obliged. Just what was his best friend up to and was he acting responsibly or irresponsibly by giving him information to support a game Rudolf had already lost too much in? Maybe he should refuse, but if Rudolf wanted to continue despite his handicap, Karl-Josef had no chance of stopping him.

 

Haflinger – a breed of horses common in Austria  
Papa – Dad  
Getreidegasse – a street in the centre of Salzburg  
Heinzelmann – a male Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign)  
Heinzelmännchen - a magical race, usually benign  
Killer – short for Tintenkiller  
Tintenkiller - ink eradicator  
Mitteilungsheft – notifications notebook, a notebook into which students write messages from the school to their parents that the parents need to sign, teachers can also write messages to the parents of a specific student, but usually they are general messages concerning the whole class (like school ending early or the amount of a ‘volontary’ donation)  
Mama – Mum  
Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)  
Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12)  
Altsteirer – “old-Styrians” – a breed of chickens  
Erdhuhn – “earth-chicken” – a magical creature  
Kaffeehaus – “coffee-house” – (No, not Starbucks, a proper coffee house.)  
Lindwurm – wyvern


	5. Chapter 4: Mirrors and Flying-Busses

Chapter 4: Mirrors and Flying-Busses

 

August 30th 1990

The installation of a mirroring connection turned out to be both like and unlike that of a telephone. The installation wizard and his apprentice – a girl to the Zweigls’ surprise – arrived in a very small coach, pulled by a single, elderly looking, flying bull. They asked to see the mirror, accepted a beer each and then complained that the mirror was hanging a few millimetres too high.

With Franzek’s help they took it off its hooks, pulled those out of the wall and hammered them back in just a little below their old position, leaving two ugly nail-holes in the wall.

Then they realised that one of the hooks was just a touch too low now and more grumbling, lifting and hammering followed while Mama and Rüdiger prepared a small lunch for the wizards.

Once they were satisfied with the mirror’s position, had eaten their lunch and drunk another bottle of beer each they waved and tapped their wands about for a moment or two and the master declared that the mirror was now ready to allow people to step in and out of while the apprentice tapped her wand against it one more time causing a list of shimmering red numbers to appear in the air. She tapped a few of them. The lot flashed red and she frowned, then tapped another sequence. They flashed red again causing her to frown some more and look to the master questioningly.

“That’s odd,” she said. “I was sure it had to be either St. Veit or Zell ...”

“It ought to be,” the master confirmed. “Are you sure you tapped the right combination? Maybe your wand slipped?”

She stepped aside to let him try, but the results were the same.

“How strange,” he frowned at the mirror. “Go fetch the region map from the coach, Karina.”

The apprentice went and returned with a large map of the province of Salzburg covered in mysterious circles.

“Mmmm,” hummed the master after regarding it for a while. “We seem to be at the outer rim of a mirror zone. Which one might be a matter of mere metres, though.”

He finally noticed the uncomprehending looks the Zweigls were giving him and added: “There’s a limit to how far one mirror can reach, you see, if it can’t reach the mirror you’ve entered it’ll signal that with the red flash you just saw and you need to pick a closer mirror as an in-between step or take the flying-bus into mirroring distance of your destination. Every mirror zone has a flying-bus stop and tapping the combination 0-155 should always activate the connection there, just in case you don’t know which it is or don’t know its combination. That’s what we’re trying to set up. From the map I’d still estimate you’d be closest to St. Veit, but perhaps we are a hint further north than I thought.”

“That’d put their bus stop into Upper Austria, wouldn’t it?” the apprentice asked with a frown. “That’s bad.”

“Why?” Rüdiger asked confused. “What’s wrong with Upper Austria?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied. “But you want the connection to get to school, right?”

Rüdiger nodded.

“And living in Salzburg, you get a free student’s ticket from the SFV and the FVT automatically, but the only flying buses you’ll find in Upper Austria will be those of the OÖSF and it’ll be complicated to get a free OÖSF ticket to Linz instead.”

“I thought the school’s in Tyrol,” snapped Mama. “Why should Rüdiger need to go to Linz? That’s the opposite direction.”

“Yes, but Upper Austrian students take the regional flying buses to Linz and a train from there to East Tyrol, which is where the school is. For the Salzburg students it’s much easier to just go directly south.”

Her master frowned some more and tapped in another combination causing another red flash.

“It’s wrong anyway. I guess we must be closer to Salzburg itself than we thought,” he said, but the next combination didn’t work either.

“That’s not possible,” Karina the apprentice insisted taking a sip of her third beer straight from the bottle. “Everywhere in Austria has to be in reach of a bus stop!”

The two went on about that impossibility for a while while Rüdiger worried whether he’d be able to get to school at all, if he couldn’t reach the bus stop.

“Do you have any neighbours with a functional mirror connection?” the master asked Opa brightly. “Then the boy could mirror from their place.”

“It’s a walk of at least three hours to our nearest neighbours,” exaggerated Mama. “You probably saw the village on your way here. And as far as I know none of them have mirror connections seeing how they are all perfectly ordinary farmers.”

“There aren’t any other wizards in the village as far as we know,” Rüdiger translated.

The master hmmed and hummed for a while.

“There shouldn’t be any area that’s not covered by at least one mirror zone,” Karina insisted again. “I’m sure it can’t be more than a few metres. If we move the mirror to the next room, it’ll probably work.”

They argued a bit whether it’d be more practical to have a full body mirror in the living room or in the kitchen and finally decided on the larder, because it was the southernmost room that wasn’t open to the guests and therefore had the best chance to be in range of a Salzburg flying-bus stop.

There was a lot more lifting and hammering, Franzek accidentally stepped on the master’s toes and Karina dropped her hammer onto her thumb sending Mama on an unnecessary search for the first aid kit while the master calmly asked Franzek for a glass of cold water, which he somehow turned into ice-cubes with a flick of his wand, and another beer.

And then the mirror was finally in place. St. Veit flashed red yet again, but the master tapped in another combination and the numbers changed to green. Karina pulled her thumb out of the glass of ice-cubes and walked into the mirror as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The Zweigls were still staring uncomprehendingly at their ordinary old mirror when suddenly a leg seemed to grow out of it, lowered to the floor, and then the rest of Karina stepped through.

“Yep, it’s the Zell am See bus stop alright,” she reported. “Take line 611 from Salzburg south, get off at Großglockner and then you can just follow all the other children from there. There’ll be lots of them. Just remember that it’s line 771 to get back to the Großglockner on the way back, because a lot of your classmates will be taking the 773 to Lienz and you don’t want to end up there. Some kid gets lost every year.”

Rüdiger nodded and promised to keep that in mind. Hopefully Joachim would be there to point him towards the right bus, though.

 

September 11th 1990

With the beginning of September the number of guests at the rest station reduced a little as the children from Vienna, Upper and Lower Austria had to return to school on September 3rd. There were still enough hikers, though, foreigners from countries where school started later and city people on day trips mostly. In another week or two they’d be replaced by couples without children who were free to take their holidays when they wished and avoid the school holidays.

On the 10th primary school started again and on the 11th Rüdiger went down into the village to wave goodbye to Kurt whom his Papa was driving to school that day. They wouldn’t see each other until Christmas, after all.

Kurt was quiet and sulky, though. As it turned out his school had a school uniform and his parents had insisted that he had to wear it for the trip. Rüdiger thought it looked very elegant, but apparently Kurt was embarrassed that his friends should see him wearing something so snobbish. He made some monosyllabic replies and busied himself making sure he’d packed everything and that his suitcase was stored properly.

Luckily their other friends were more talkative.

“It was strange seeing the little children go to school yesterday when ours is only starting tomorrow,” Michi said.

“It’s not,” Petra corrected him. “They all started yesterday, but in secondary school the first two days are for Nachprüfungen. We just don’t have any, because we’re only just starting.”

“Nachprüfungen?” Kurt snorted. “God, how stupid does one have to be to fail a subject at the Hauptschule?”

Rüdiger didn’t comment, but thought that Kurt was being unfair. The children having Nachprüfungen at the Hauptschule today were probably foreigners like Mustafa who’d failed German through no fault of their own.

Mustafa hadn’t come to see Kurt off, though. Those two had never really been friends.

They stood in front of Kurt’s house, waved after the car as it drove off, shouted “Good luck!” and “Don’t forget to write!”, but as soon as it was out of sight Petra shrugged and commented: “Well, that’s probably the last we’ll see of him.”

“Nonsense,” said Rüdiger. “He’ll be home for Christmas.”

“He’ll have made new, smarter friends at his posh school by the end of the week and forget all about us,” Petra insisted. “Papa had a friend who went to the Gymnasium and he wanted nothing to do with his old friends when he came home. It’s just not the same when you’re going to different schools.”

“It’ll be strange having new classmates,” Michi said. “Do you know any town children? I don’t.”

Petra shrugged again. “They’ll know each other, and we’ll be together anyway. If they snub us, we’ll just snub them back. Do you know what teachers we’ll have, though? Are they the same Flo has?”

Michi shook his head. “I don’t think any two classes have the same combination of teachers. There are lots of them, Flo says. We’re lucky to even all be in the same class. There are three first classes every year. And they’ll still separate us into Leistungsgruppen in German, Math and English. What teacher you have in those subjects depends on how good you are, not what class you’re in.”

“It’ll be strange having so many different teachers,” Rüdiger commented when they started discussing individual teachers the older children had told them of. He was feeling strangely lonely being the only one who knew for sure that none of them would be his teachers.

“You won’t have Leistungsgruppen at the Gymnasium, though,” Michi said consolingly. “If you’re not good enough for the top group there, they fail you.”

“And you’ll have Professors instead of Fachlehrer. Just like Kurt,” Petra added. “Aren’t you scared? They’re supposed to be so demanding and strict.”

“Why should he be?” Michi asked before Rüdiger could answer. “If they kick him out, he gets to go to the Hauptschule just as he wanted to. Kurt’s the one that should be worried. You know, you should just play stupid and fail all your tests. Then they’ll probably let you transfer before the end of the year.”

“And if not, you transfer after failing,” said Petra. “You’ll be a year behind us, but you can visit us during breaks and you don’t have to do the Polytechnischen Lehrgang.”

Rüdiger nodded and promised to think about it, if he didn’t like his new school. “But I’ll give it a try first. I like Joachim and maybe I’ll learn interesting stuff, too.”

He left earlier than he’d meant to, because all the talk about new schools was making him nervous. Maybe he really should try to fail out of magic school so he could be with his friends again? But Joachim was his friend, too and he really wanted to learn to do magic.

 

September 12th 1990

The next morning Rüdiger put on one of his new robes, put his new writing utensils and wand in his schoolbag, grabbed his Patschensackerl and went downstairs at about the same time he’d left to go to primary school. If he were going to the Hauptschule he’d be on the hiking path right now ... but at least he’d be on the way to meet his friends.

Joachim lived in Tyrol. He’d arrive at school from another direction. And Rüdiger didn’t know anyone else. He’d never even ridden a magical bus before.

He was too nervous to eat much breakfast and Mama packed the rest up to take to school.

“Though you’ll probably not find time to eat your Jause today,” she said. “You’ll probably just meet your Klassenvorstand and go to Mass.”

Rüdiger nodded, packed it away and picked up his schoolbag. How strange to carry it in his hand instead of on his back.

He walked into the larder and stood in front of the mirror for a moment. His wand was at the bottom of his schoolbag. Maybe he should have put it somewhere where he could reach it more easily.

At least there wasn’t much else inside. He dug out the wand and tapped it against the mirror. The glowing colours appeared just like they had for the installation wizards and with shaking hands Rüdiger tapped the combination they’d told him and they turned green. Apparently the mirror was working he realised with equal relief and disappointment.

Lord von Raifburg hadn’t been able to make his promised visit in the short time since the installation and so Rüdiger had never used the mirror before. Maybe if it didn’t work, he could still go down to the village and ... But no, by the time he got there the bus would be long gone and he wouldn’t learn any magic, if he didn’t go to magic school.

He lifted his leg and cautiously touched the glass with the tip of his shoe. It slid through as if the mirror were made of water. Rüdiger closed his eyes and followed the tip of his shoe. For a moment it did indeed feel like water, cool and wet and distorting sound, and then he stumbled out on the other side perfectly dry and almost fell. Why had he expected the floor to be higher on this side? It wasn’t.

Rüdiger opened his eyes and looked around. He stood in a strange sort of room, that had only three walls, the ones to the right and left were almost completely covered with advertisements and the one behind him with a row of mirrors. The front side opened onto a concrete platform full of people in wizards’ robes. Now what?

There was a sudden yelp behind him and someone bumped into him. He turned around to see a tall teenaged girl in a blue robe and carrying a schoolbag much like his own over her shoulder.

“What are you doing standing in front of the mirror, you idiot?” she snapped at him. “Get out of the way.”

She must have arrived through the same mirror he had, Rüdiger realised. And any moment someone else might come trough.

“Sorry,” he managed and stepped back. “I didn’t ...”

But the girl had already turned her back on him and was walking towards the platform muttering something about “dumme Kleinkinder”.

Rüdiger blushed and wished he could walk away in the opposite direction and hide, but she looked like she was on the way to school as well so he followed her to the platform where she joined another girl that looked like she might be her classmate.

Rüdiger stopped a few metres away and watched them squeal and laugh together. Everybody here seemed to know somebody else. They were standing around in groups talking, but nobody was leaving and he couldn’t see a bus sign anywhere.

The girls probably knew how much time they could waste before going to the bus stop, but Rüdiger wished he were there already and he didn’t want them to realise that he was following them. He looked at the other people standing around and finally approached a group of older wizardesses that looked vaguely maternal.

“Excuse me?” he asked nervously.

One of them turned around and looked down her nose at him. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for bus line 611 to Großglockner?” It came out sounding something between a statement and a question, but apparently the wizardess had understood.

“Why of course this is line 611. As if there were any other stopping here,” she snorted. “God what is going on today? Children everywhere, squealing and shoving and asking stupid questions.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” said one of the others surprised. “It’s the first day of school. I should have remembered to take a later bus.”

“It’s alright,” the third said to Rüdiger. “The bus is just a few minutes late. It always is. You haven’t missed it.”

“Not that it would be a problem, if you did miss it,” added the second wizardess. “The next bus would still get you to school on time. Or almost on time in any case. It definitely would, if it ever were on time, so you can always tell the professor that the bus was late and not you.”

“Don’t encourage unpunctuality, Anneliese,” the first wizardess scolded. “These lazy brats today ...”

Rüdiger hastily thanked them and walked a few steps forward as if he meant to check whether he could see the bus approaching.

Now he also noticed a yellow safety line on the floor, like they had at the subway stations in Vienna. He hadn’t seen it before, because so many people were standing on it, but unlike in his memory of the subway stations here the people did stay well away from the rim of the platform. None of them were standing more than a step or two over the yellow line, so Rüdiger stopped at that distance as well and looked around.

There was no road in sight, but then Karina had said that it was a flying bus stop and the von Raifburgs used a flying coach that didn’t need any roads. He wondered which direction the bus would come from. There wasn’t another platform in sight so this stop probably served both directions. What if he got on the wrong bus? The wizardess had said that there wasn’t another line stopping here, but he had no idea where the bus was supposed to come from. Would he be able to find his way home?

Suddenly the people around him drew back. Some seemed to be rushing to the right, others just back towards the mirror room. Rüdiger retreated behind the yellow line just in time as something large dove down from above and landed on the platform with several thumping sounds in rapid succession.

The flying bus vaguely resembled the von Raifburgs’ coach. It was longer, though, looking more like a tube and less like an egg and there were four flying bulls, one next to each wheel, their harnesses were the same yellow as Post buses as was the bus itself. Magical flying Post buses?

But there was no time to stare now. A door had opened in the side of the bus and wizards were rushing out heading straight for the mirrors and shoving aside everybody in their way. Somehow Rüdiger had managed to stand in the wrong place again. He got pushed this way and that for a moment or two and then most of the people had passed and he managed to duck out to the right.

There was another door here, right at the front where the driver sat and the wizards who’d gathered on this side earlier were filing inside. There were still people outside, but the number was rapidly decreasing.

Should he get on as well? He couldn’t see the front of the bus nor did he know whether it would show its destination there, but the people with schoolbags all seemed to have disappeared so they were probably inside and he could ask the driver. He had to buy his ticket anyway.

He got in last, pulled out the money pouch Mama had made sure he took along and asked: “To Großglockner?”.

The driver cast a look at his pouch, another at his school bag and snorted. “Yeah, yeah, ain’t got your ticket, yet. G’on. All the rest do anyway.” He nodded to move on past him.

Rüdiger thanked him, but there wasn’t much room to go. The bus was as crowded as it could get – or so Rüdiger thought. The inside was much like a normal bus, except that Rüdiger had never ridden one this full before. There was an isle in the middle between two rows of seats, all facing forward. Except that these seats were wooden benches rather than cushioned chairs and that there were three people squeezed onto most of them that Rüdiger could see.

The rest of the passengers were standing in the isle, the taller ones holding on to leather slings that were hanging down from above. They were well out of Rüdiger’s reach, though, so he just grabbed hold of the back of the first bench behind the driver’s.

Not a moment too soon. The door closed and the bus jerked into forward motion followed by a sudden jerk to the right and back as the left front bull jumped into the air first, then everybody was thrown into the opposite direction as the back bulls followed almost, but not quite at the same time. The bus wobbled for a moment until the right front bull caught up with a sudden leap. Rüdiger was thrown against the wizardess next to him. In the back somebody squeaked, but nobody complained. He apologised, but nobody else did or seemed to mind much.

Once it was in the air the bus settled into a more even flight pattern. The three older boys on the bench Rüdiger was clinging to were discussing girls and complaining about the unfairness of parents and little sisters who ratted one’s plans out to said girls’ intolerant Papas.

It was a disappointingly non-magical conversation.

Past the boring boys Rüdiger could see the window, but it showed mostly sky, clouds and only an occasional mountaintop in the distance. He’d have needed to sit right by the window to be able to look down at the landscape below.

They flew and flew, the boys’ conversation moved on to derogatory remarks about their classmates and teachers and Rüdiger got a little more interested. Perhaps some of them would be his teachers, too?

“Old Schreckschraube von Nordström?” one said. “Oh come on, I bet she just makes it all up. She’s nothing.”

“Yeah, she’s just clever at it so the little idiots are impressed,” added another. “You don’t seriously still believe in her, though, do you?” He emphasised the word her to make his opinion of the consequence of Professor von Nordström very clear.

“You’re scared of the Pospischil, though,” the third boy countered blushing with embarrassment. “Of all people.”

“That was in third class!” the accused defended himself. “And I’d failed two Schularbeiten and had forgotten my homework. I was afraid he’d fail me, if he caught me with a fag on top of all that.”

“Well, he certainly would have done more than that, if he’d known it was you who shoved it into that desk and nearly burned down the school.”

“It didn’t even damage the desk! .... much.”

There were students who set fires at magic school? Luckily the boys never noticed Rüdiger’s alarmed reaction to their conversation, or if they did they didn’t attribute it to their words as at that moment the bus took a sudden dive downward throwing everybody forward and Rüdiger nearly off his feet.

He was still clinging to the backrest of the bench with one hand, but had let go with the other and on reflex grabbed hold of the first thing in reach, which was the second boy’s robe. The boy grabbed his arm and held on. It hurt, but kept Rüdiger upright as one wheel after the other bumped onto solid ground and the bulls dropped down beside them.

“Sorry,” he gasped at the boy.

The boy snorted. “Get lost you dwarf.”

That was easier said than done, as people were squeezing past Rüdiger towards the door.

“Th’exit’s in back,” the driver complained as they shoved back some passengers trying to get in, but nobody paid him any mind.

“What stop’s this?” Rüdiger asked a little worried, though the boys, who had to be going to school as well, made no move to get up.

“Hohe Tauern, of course. What else?” The boy looked at him as if he were an idiot.

With a hasty “Thanks” Rüdiger retreated deeper into the bus. It seemed the obvious thing to do as the pressure of bodies from the front was increasing and the people getting off in the back were leaving free space behind.

He ended up almost all the way down to the exit door, which seemed a good place to be when one needed to get off and since he didn’t know when they’d reach Großglockner he decided to try to stay close to it.

This time he held on to two benches as they took off, a much more stable position. The bench in front of him was particularly crowded with three teenagers and a girl sitting in the lap of the oldest boy. A girl that seemed familiar.

"Margarete zu Dunkelbrunn!" Rüdiger exclaimed in surprise.

The teenagers’ heads all turned towards Rüdiger and Margarete zu Dunkelbrunn wriggled around on the boy’s lap until she could see him and stared at him as well.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

"From the magic supplies shop, remember?" he answered blushing as he realised how rude he’d been. "Joachim told me. You bought your wand just before us."

“Joachim?” the boy Margarete was sitting on asked sternly. “What Joachim? You’re a bit young to start dating.”

Margarete playfully hit him over the head.

“Friedrich!” she said exasperatedly. “I’m not dating anyone. He was with Joachim von Raifburg, not me.”

“Ewww!” exclaimed Friedrich and the other teenagers giggled.

“Well, if that’s eww, you and Heinrich are eww as well,” Margarete declared. “Never mind my cousins,” she added towards Rüdiger. “They’re insane. What’s your name?”

"I'm Rüdiger, Rüdiger Zweigl."

Margarete looked at him and seemed to be thinking. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of your family. What do they do?”

Luckily Joachim had prepared him for that sort of reaction. “They’re non-magicals. We have a farm.”

“Oh cool,” squealed Margarete. “Do you breed flying bulls?”

“Er, no,” Rüdiger answered a little embarrassed. They didn’t have any cool animals like that. “Just normal cows. And sheep.”

“Tsk,” made the teenaged girl cousin. “Of course non-magicals don’t keep magical animals, Margarete. It’s not allowed.”

“That’s still cool,” Margarete declared ignoring the cousin. “I’ve never seen a sheep. Except in pictures of course. And no non-magical cows either.”

“They’re small and wooly,” Rüdiger supplied. “Maybe you can visit me sometime. Then you can see them. And pet them if you like.”

Cousin Friedrich looked around at the people surrounding them. “Who are you with?”

“With?” Rüdiger asked confused. “What do you mean with?”

“Well, who’s taking you to school? Showing you the way?”

“Oh, the von Raifburgs. I’m meeting them at the bus stop in Tyrol.”

They stared at him some more.

“Have you gone there before then?” cousin Friedrich asked.

Rüdiger shook his head. “I’ve never even ridden a flying bus before,” he admitted. “But the von Raifburgs are coming from another direction and of course my family can’t use the mirror to travel, so they couldn’t come. Besides, they’ve never gone there either.”

The cousins exchanged glances.

“You’re brave,” Margarete said into the uncomfortable silence. “I’d have insisted that Papa should go with me the first time, if my cousins hadn’t been going anyway.”

“It’s not a good idea, though,” said the girl cousin. “You could get lost and you probably don’t want to miss your first day. You’d better stick with us.”

“Yes, you’ll want to stick close to Margarete anyway,” cousin Friedrich advised. “She’s your classmate. We’ll take you to your meeting place safely and hand you over to the von Raifburgs.”

“But ...” said the youngest cousin and squirmed uncomfortably. “We’re supposed to stay away from the von Raifburgs. They’re bad people.”

“Oh, what are they going to do to us?” Margarete laughed. “Fry us alive in front of a whole bus full of wizards?”

The youngest cousin shuddered.

“They’re not going to do anything, Eduard,” cousin Friedrich assured him. “We’ll just hand over little Rüdiger, say something polite and leave. We don’t have to hang out with them or become their best friends. You should know, though,” he added to Rüdiger. “That the von Raifburgs are a bad influence. They have done some very bad things in the past and some very influential people might think badly of you, if you’re seen with them too often.”

“Joachim’s my friend,” Rüdiger said. “And he’s only ten. What can he have done that’s so bad?"

The cousins exchanged glances.

“Nothing,” cousin Friedrich admitted. “But he’s the son of Lord von Raifburg and you know what they say, like father, like son.”

“And what has Lord von Raifburg done then?”

Margarete and the other cousins looked expectantly at cousin Friedrich. Didn’t they know why they were scared of the von Raifburgs either?

“Er ... Well, ...” cousin Friedrich stuttered. “Actually, I don’t know of anything he’s done either, but he’s the son of the last Lord von Raifburg.”

“So what has the last Lord von Raifburg done?” Rüdiger asked. Be the son of great-grandfather von Raifburg most likely, he suspected. Maybe some great-great-great grandfather von Raifburg had seduced great-great-great grandfather zu Dunkelbrunn’s sister or something ridiculous like that and all zu Dunkelbrunns had hated all von Raifburgs by virtue of descent ever since?

“Well, he ...” cousin Friedrich started, but just then the bus lurched forward for another landing and a moment later everything went dark. “We’re here! Make sure you’ve got everything. We need to get off.”

The light returned, but it was the weak light of neon lamps mounted at rather large intervals. Apparently they’d landed inside a tunnel!

There was a lot of pushing and shoving towards the exit, Rüdiger almost lost the zu Dunkelbrunns, but somehow he managed to keep them in sight and fight his way through the crowd until he reached them again.

They were standing on a black concrete floor in a large hall with black concrete walls, sparsely lit by neon light and smelling of exhaust fumes. Rüdiger wrinkled his nose.

“Where are we? This doesn’t look like the Großglockner to me.”

“It is, though,” cousin Friedrich explained as they walked down the hall. The adult wizards that had gotten off the bus were heading off in every direction, but all the children seemed to be going the same way. “We’re on a hidden level of the parking garage at the end of the Großglockner Hochalpenstraße. It’s one of the main nodes of magical public transport. Everything arrives and departs in here.”

“So we’re not even going outside to see the Großglockner?” Margarete sounded as disappointed as Rüdiger felt.

“We’ll only miss the bus, if we do,” cousin Eduard grumbled. “Besides, it’s not worth seeing. Just another concrete platform, a tourist shop and lots of non-magical tourists.”

“The view of the glacier is nice,” cousin Friedrich amended. “And you can feed the marmots, but it’s not worth missing the bus over. There might be more time on the way back.”

Oh well, Rüdiger had seen marmots before.

The cousins led them to another landing site that didn’t look any different from several others nearby except for all the children with schoolbags standing there. Rüdiger was about to ask how one could tell which was for which bus when there was a sudden noise like an avalanche and something rushed through the other end of the hall with a gust of wind that blew dust and empty plastic bags about and made their robes flutter.

“What was that?” Rüdiger gasped.

“The train from Vienna,” cousin Friedrich said.

“We’ll be crushed,” cousin Eduard complained.

“Oh, Sandra will be on it!” the girl cousin exclaimed and ran off.

Rüdiger only began to understand Eduard’s reaction when the train passengers began to flood into the hall. Just like the people that had gotten off the bus the adults spread out over a variety of different landing sites, but all the children came to join them and there was a lot of them. He and Margarete stepped closer to the two remaining cousins and watched as people shouted greetings to each other, embraced, shoved each other ...

“Have you ever seen this many children in one place?” Margarete asked in awe.

Rüdiger nodded. “Once when I was in town near the Hauptschule just when school ended on a Saturday. I think there were even more of them then.”

But they’d been smaller, the oldest students there being fourteen or fifteen at the most. These were Gymnasium students so some of them might well be eighteen already.

The zu Dunkelbrunns all seemed to know somebody among the new arrivals and started shouting and waving and exchanging news.

Rüdiger took a look around at all the people and suddenly felt very lost and alone. What was he doing here? This wasn't his world, none of these people cared about him and he didn’t really know anybody. He'd been meant to take the bus to the Hauptschule in town with all of his old classmates from primary school, children he'd known all his life. Was magic really worth giving that up?

Right here and now it didn't seem so, but it was too late to change his mind and go back. He wasn’t even sure which bus stop he’d arrived at anymore, much less which one to wait for the return bus at. He'd just have to keep going along and hope that it wouldn't be that bad after all. Hopefully Joachim was waiting for him at the school.

“See that boy over there?” Margarete asked him suddenly. “That’s Nikolaus von Amselfeld. His father’s one of our Professors.”

Rüdiger looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a group of three boys. “Which one?”

“The one that’s looking our way,” Margarete explained. “The other two are nobles in our class as well. Kaspar zu Hinterfels and Ottokar von Kahlenberg. But I like Nikolaus best, he’s a lot of fun. Ottokar’s alright, too, but he’s always hanging around Kaspar and Kaspar thinks he’s too good to play with girls. He ... Hey, Augustina! Kunigunde!”

Margarete started waving more excitedly and beckoning to a pair of girls that had just appeared beside the boys.

“Those are friends of mine. Sort of. They’re already eleven, but starting a year late, so they’re in our class, too.”

“Oh, why ...” Rüdiger started, but then the girls were already there and it was probably impolite to ask why they were a year behind when they could hear him. He considered asking what Nikolaus’ father taught and why Margarete thought he’d be their teacher, if his son was their classmate, but she was talking excitedly to Augustina and Kunigunde.

Both girls were taller than Margarete and doing their best to look very adult, but the two Heinzelfrauen following them with their schoolbags ruined the image. None of the older children had servants with them, so they were probably there to supervise the girls on their way to school just like the cousins were doing for Margarete.

“Where are your manners, Margarete?” the one Rüdiger thought was Augustina scolded. “You have a companion, so you must make introductions.”

Margarete rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop talking like my Mama. His name’s Rüdiger and his parents are non-magicals and don’t know the way to school, so he’s with us.”

“That’s not a proper introduction,” Augustina complained. “And ...”

“Look, Fräulein Henriette, there they are,” a squeaky, but somehow adult sounding voice said and another Heinzelfrau appeared. “Everything’s alright now, no need to cry.”

She was leading a sobbing little girl towards them and pointing at Augustina and Kunigunde.

“And look, isn’t that Fräulein zu Dunkelbrunn? Isn’t that nice? Lots of familiar faces. You’re going to have a wonderful day ...” the Heinzelfrau was babbling cheerily, though she was looking rather worn out.

Fräulein Henriette brightened when she saw Margarete, but addressed Kunigunde: “You lost me!” Was she really old enough to be starting secondary school already? She looked so much smaller than everybody else.

“So what?” asked Augustina. “You’ve got your Heinzelfrau and know where we’re going. Seriously! Quit acting like a baby.”

“The child’s been impossible since she got on the train in Linz,” Kunigunde explained to Rüdiger and Margarete not bothering to lower her voice. “It’s so embarrassing! I wish I didn’t know her.”

She and Augustina turned their backs on Henriette and proceeded to properly introduce themselves to Rüdiger. This involved curtseying, Rüdiger having to learn how to bow and kiss their hands and call Augustina Fräulein von Schwanenfels. Kunigunde declared that her name was Fräulein von Schreckenstein, but graciously allowed him to call her Fräulein Kunigunde, because von Schreckenstein was such an awful name.

When the bus arrived and they were all squeezing inside cousin Friedrich grabbed hold of Rüdiger’s shoulder and whispered into his ear: “That was ballroom etiquette, you know. I didn’t want to spoil the girls’ fun, but I think you should know that you only ever need to bow and kiss hands at balls, or in case you’re invited to the emperor’s palace. Nobody’s that formal in school.”

Rüdiger had thought that the first bus had been too full, but now he learned better, people were squeezing in so tightly that they could barely breathe. Their group was lucky enough to get inside when there were still some seats available, though. They managed to claim one bench and made the best possible use of it by seating Margarete on cousin Eduard’s lap, Rüdiger on cousin Friedrich’s and Henriette on Friedrich’s reluctant friend Heinrich’s. Augustina and Kunigunde and the Heinzelfrauen were nearly squeezed to death by a fat wizardess and her grandson on the bench in front of them, but those who had to remain standing had it even worse.

“At least we not can fall over,” Rüdiger heard a boy comment.

“Oh shut up, deppata Tschusch,” snapped a boy with a strong Viennese accent.

“I not Tschusch, I from Poland,” protested the first boy.

“Deppata Pollak,” the Viennese amended.

“Oh wonderful,” Kunigunde complained. “Uncultured farm boys, refugees and Pöbel that can’t even speak proper German. The level this school has sunk to!”

“You’re not going to make a lot of friends that way, you know,” cousin Friedrich warned her. “Most of them turn out to be perfectly fine wizards once you get to know them.”

“Hanging out with the rabble, Friedrich?” Augustina sneered. “And you the heir to a dukedom?”

Rüdiger looked up at cousin Friedrich’s face in surprise. Yes, he did remember that Joachim had said that Margarete was the niece of the Duke of Salzburg and that said Duke had sons, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to Rüdiger to associate that information with cousin Friedrich and cousin Edmund.

Friedrich sighed. “We’ll have to be patient,” he stated. “They’ll grow bored of their snobbishness when they realise how few people that leaves them to associate with.”

Nobody got off until they reached their stop, but luckily only one person got on on the way either. Rüdiger was sure that not even a baby could have been squeezed in, but somehow that person seemed to have managed as the platform was empty when they lifted off again.

Their stop didn’t look very different from the one in Zell am See where Rüdiger had first arrived out of the mirror, except maybe a little dustier and with more graffiti. The air smelled like forest and mountain, just like the hiking path at home.

“I’m supposed to meet Joachim here,” Rüdiger reminded the others and they fought their way out of the mass of students headed for the rim of the platform to wait in the mirror room.

“Is Franziska here?” Henriette asked. “Have you seen Franziska? Where’s Franziska? I have to look for Franziska!”

“Why aren’t we going on to the school?” Kunigunde asked her Heinzelfrau. “Please tell me we aren’t really looking for Franziska.”

“No,” said cousin Friedrich “We’re waiting for the von Raifburgs. They should be on the bus from Lientz, right?”

“Line 773, Joachim wrote,” Rüdiger confirmed and Friedrich tapped his wand against an unremarkable bit of wall which turned into an arrivals and departures sign.

“Then they should arrive in seven minutes,” he announced.

“The von Raifburgs?” Augustina asked scandalised. “Why them? It’s not proper. They ...”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Margarete who’d apparently had enough of her sort of friends’ antics for one morning. “They’re nobles. Isn’t even that good enough for you?”

“Really Margarete,” Augustina started to lecture her. “You need to watch who you associate with.”

“Talking about associating,” Kunigunde’s Heinzelfrau interrupted hastily. “Why don’t we go ahead and see if we can’t find a good place to see the arrival of the princess from?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Kunigunde agreed right away.

“Alright,” conceded Augustina. “But I’m not reserving anything for the von Raifburgs.”

“But what about Franziska?” Henriette asked. “I have to find Franziska.”

She stood undecided between the waiting group of zu Dunkelbunns and friends and the departing girls and Heinzelfrauen, then finally raced after the later. “Nooo, don’t go. Wait for meeeee!!!”

Margarete sighed. "Do you think we'll be hearing this all year?" she asked Rüdiger.

He shrugged. How should he know? He'd never even met the girl before.

"Last time I met the von Harraschs Henriette seemed pretty quiet and normal," cousin Friedrich said. "But her parents were there and she spent most of the time with Franziska. Maybe, she’s just nervous about starting school and riding the bus on her own.”

“But she wasn’t nearly as on her own as Rüdiger was,” Margarete pointed out. “And he’s not running around wailing for Joachim.”

“Maybe she’s been sheltered too much?” Rüdiger suggested. “My friend Kurt’s Mama used to take him to school everyday in first grade, but his Papa made her stop, because he said Kurt needed to go places alone so he wouldn’t be afraid of being without his Mama when he went to boarding school.”

He wondered what Kurt was doing now. Was he on his way to school, too? But he was living in the school, so it would probably be too early. Maybe he was still having breakfast.

“That could be,” cousin Friedrich said. “She was probably home schooled until now, so she couldn’t have gone to school alone.”

“So was I,” Margarete pointed out. “And Kunigunde and Augustina, too.”

“There it is!” cousin Eduard shouted and indeed another bus was approaching.

It looked exactly like the one they’d arrived on which was a little worrying. How would they recognise the right bus to take them back?

Another busload of people rushed across the platform, all strangers to Rüdiger, but apparently not to the zu Dunkelbrunns.

“Hi Anselm!” Margarete shouted suddenly, and then: “Hildegard! Hey, Hiiiildegard! Over here!”

A boy and girl looked up and waved. The girl made an attempt to get through to them, but was pulled onward by the wizardess accompanying her. “See you in school!” she shouted at Margarete instead.

“Oh,” made Margarete disappointedly. “That was my friend Hildegard. She’s a real friend, not just sort of, because we’re nobles and the same age. She’s a commoner, you see.”

“And that makes her more real?” Rüdiger asked.

Margarete shrugged. “Sort of.”

“There,” said Friedrich. “I think I just spotted Herrn von Raifburg.”

“And Joachim?”

Joachim was nowhere in sight, but they could only see the head of Herrn von Raifburg. Joachim wasn’t tall enough to be visible behind all the other people. Friedrich led them in that direction and waved, but Herr von Raifburg didn’t react obviously not expecting Friedrich zu Dunkelbrunn, future Duke of Salzburg, to be looking for him and so they had to force their way through the crowd until they reached him.

“Rüdiger!” Joachim called out when they finally made it through. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be here yet!”

“We caught the earlier bus,” Margarete informed him. “Who’s that?”

There was a girl in non-magical clothes standing beside Joachim and looking at them wide-eyed.

“Huh?” Joachim stared at Margarete stupidly for a moment and then cast a confused look at Rüdiger.

“We met on the bus,” Rüdiger explained.

“Yes, and I introduced him to some of my friends,” Margarete added. “I’d introduce you, too, but they went ahead and you probably know them anyway.”

“And they’re huge snobs,” Rüdiger threw in.

“And that,” Margarete admitted. “But I’ll introduce you to Hildegard when we catch up with her. She’s okay. So who’s the girl?”

“Well, her name’s Sonja and we met at the train station in Innsbruck and her Mama asked Papa to take her along.”

“They didn’t warn us that there wasn’t a way for normal people to get to the school,” Sonja added a little apologetically.

“Nonsense,” said Cousin Eduard. “Of course there is. Non-magical parents come to parents’ conferences and speaking days all the time ... I think. At least the children from non-magical families in my class say their parents were there afterwards.”

“Normal people?” Joachim demanded. “Are we abnormal or something?”

“Well, you can do magic,” Sonja explained.

“But so can you!” Joachim returned.

Sonja blushed and they all burst out laughing.

“Maybe we’d better head for the school,” Herr von Raifburg, who’d been exchanging stiff phrases with Friedrich that sounded like more ballroom etiquette, interrupted their conversation. “There’s quite a bit still to go and you probably want to be there to see the Seilbahn arrive.”

“And the princess,” cousin Friedrich added, though he was looking sidewards at Herrn von Raifburg as if he wasn’t sure he ought to be agreeing with him.

There were concrete steps leading down from one corner of the platform. They were grey and worn and in Rüdiger’s opinion much too low, slowing one down by requiring two steps where you’d make one on normal stairs. Perhaps they were meant to be more comfortable for old or handicapped people, but then, Rüdiger thought, they’d have done better to build a lift. Michi’s great-grandmother surely would have complained that she didn’t have the strength to climb that many steps on her poor old legs no matter what size they were and there was no track for baby-buggies either. It was lucky the stop mainly served the school where few elderly wizards or young mothers with babies were likely to go.

Once they had climbed all the way down Herr von Raifburg and the cousins led them onto a concrete path that led up a mountain. It would have been much like the hiking path back at home, if they hadn’t paved it and if there hadn’t been so many other wizards going up there as well. The hiking path was never this crowded.

“It’s a little less busy on a normal school-day,” Cousin Friedrich promised when Rüdiger commented on that. “Especially on the way back. Today most first classlers have a parent or Heinzelmännchen along that won’t usually be there and on most days one class goes home an hour before the rest.”

“Yours most of the time,” cousin Eduard added smirking at Margarete. “Because you poor little ones can’t handle a full school-day, yet, so they let you off after only five hours most days.”

“Don’t get too used to it, though,” cousin Friedrich warned. “Once you reach third class you’ll have the normal morning schedule like everybody else and starting fifth class Nachmittagsunterricht.”

“Pah,” scoffed cousin Eduard. “I wish I did have a double lesson Turnen a week. You guys are just lazy.”

“Oh, just wait and see how well you like having just a sandwich for lunch,” cousin Friedrich countered.

Rüdiger ignored them. He’d have had six hour school-days at the Hauptschule as well and he wasn’t going to stay in magic school past fourth class. He wanted to rejoin his friends at the Polytechnischer Lehrgang for his last year of school.

 

 

Mama – Mum  
Opa – Grandpa  
Papa – Dad  
Nachprüfungen – “after-exams” – singular: Nachprüfung, an exam at the beginning of the new school year if you failed a subject the year before. It decides whether you need to repeat the grade or not.  
Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)  
Leistungsgruppen – “performance groups” – singular: Leistungsgruppe At the Hauptschule in German, Mathematics and English students are sorted into classes based on their performance rather than their assigned class (which usually is the same group in all subjects). The first Leistungsgruppe is supposed to have the same difficulty level as the Gymnasium while the third is remedial level. Students can be switched from one Leistungsgruppe to another at any time rather than only at the beginning or end of a year.  
Fachlehrer – “subject-teacher(s)” – The teachers at the Hauptschule. They differ from the primary school teachers by being specifically trained to teach their subjects (usually two per teacher) rather than trained to teach every subject and from the Professoren at the Gymnasium by having been trained at a pedagogic academy rather than a university. (= They still have more pedagogic training than subject knowledge.)  
Polytechnischer Lehrgang – “polytechnical course” – A separate school (though often in the same building as a Hauptschule) that serves as an opportunity to complete 9th grade to those not planning to go on to another secondary school after finishing the Hauptschule. (The law demands that every child goes to school for nine years, but the Hauptschule ends with 8th grade and the Austrian Kindergarten is not a school.)  
Patschensackerl – Bag containing a student’s house-shoes when not in use.  
Jause – snack/tea/school lunch (A small meal in between the three big ones, not actually in place of lunch.) or packed lunch  
Klassenvorstand – The teacher organisationally in charge of a class. He deals with administrative things and anything else that isn’t part of anyone’ particular subject. (From the description I guess much like the American homeroom teacher, except that the Klassenvorstand doesn’t get a special homeroom class for this, but has to somehow fit it into the time allotted to his normal subject instead.)  
dumme Kleinkinder – stupid toddlers (verbatim “stupid little-children” hence also used in reference to children younger than the speaker or children acting childishly)  
Schreckschraube – an insult: ugly woman, old bitch  
Schularbeiten – plural of Schularbeit  
Schularbeit – “school-work” – an hour long written test very important for the final grade first introduced in 4th grade where you have 4 in Math and 4 in German (called Klassenarbeit in Germany), after that 6 per year in German, Math and English, plus other subjects added later depending on school form, can be two or three hours long and as few as four a year in 11th and 12th grade.  
Heinzelfrauen – plural of Heinzelfrau  
Heinzelfrau – a female Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign)  
Fräulein – Miss (old fashioned in most contexts)  
deppata Tschusch – Viennese slang: Turkish idiot  
deppata Pollak - Viennese slang: Polish idiot  
Pöbel – commoners/rabble  
Seilbahn – “rope-train” – Um yeah, like this one: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/12/Cablecar.zelllamsee.500pix.jpg  
Nachmittagsunterricht – “afternoon teaching” – Afternoon classes. (Though the last ‘morning class’ ends at 2pm, then students would be expected to go home, eat lunch and return to school, if they have Nachmittagsunterricht.)  
Turnen – Sports/Physical Education


	6. Chapter 5: The Stone Angel

Chapter 5: The Stone Angel

 

Arrival at school was a noisy affair. Not that it had been at all quiet at Rüdiger’s Volksschule, but there were a lot more students and parents here, not to mention the Heizelmännchen. Besides, at the village school the noise had been distributed all over the school and only the first classlers had been really excited. Here, students of eight grades were gathered together in a small clearing surrounding two wooden tables with benches next to a steep rock wall that was secured only by a not very trustworthy looking wire fence and even the oldest were shouting out to friends they hadn’t seen for two months.

Rüdiger, Joachim and the girls stuck closely to Lord von Raifburg which seemed to be the safest course of action. At least an adult was less likely to be overlooked and overrun by the shoving older students.

“Can’t we just go ahead to the school?” he shouted over the noise. “Maybe there’s more room there.”

“There is a path down,” Lord von Raifburg shouted back. “But the Seilbahn is faster and much more comfortable.”

Rüdiger looked around again, but there was no Seilbahnstation in sight. Well, at least not one that he could see through the crowd.

“You’ll see,” Lord von Raifburg promised with a smile.

“What are we waiting for anyway?” Sonja asked impatiently. “I thought we start school at eight?”

“The Princess, I expect,” Lord von Raifburg explained calmly. “It might be considered disrespectful if the whole school weren’t here to see her arrive. Or maybe they want to impress her with the Seilbahn’s arrival.”

“Princess?” Sonja asked excitedly. “A real princess?”

“Yes, Anna-Theresia von Lothringen, the emperor’s heir, is starting magic school this year.”

Rüdiger frowned. He hadn’t realised the princess Margarete’s sort of friends had been talking about was going to be in their class. What if she was terribly spoiled and arrogant? The girl however had no such worries.

“I’ll be in a class with a real princess!” she squealed happily. “Or are there several first classes? I didn’t even know there still are real princesses. I wonder what she’ll be like. Do you think she’ll be my friend?”

“I doubt it,” Joachim said. “I met her a few years ago and back then she was a stuck up goat.”

“Hey, will you look at that!” a boy’s voice rang out across the clearing. “That’s no coach, it’s a flying carpet!”

There was much squealing and shoving as everybody tried to get into a better position to see. Rüdiger grabbed Sonja’s hand just in time to pull her out of the way of a boy of seventeen or eighteen who was shoving through with brutal force.

“Help!” Joachim yelped as they were shoved into him roughly. “We’ll be squashed.”

“No, we won’t,” Rüdiger assured him with conviction born from four years of at least one game of Völkerball per week in Turnen. “We’ll be fine.”

Indeed the crowd shifted again a moment later leaving them with just enough room to stand in and they even caught a glimpse of the underside of the carpet as it landed.

“Must be a first-classler,” someone somewhere behind them said. “At least I’ve never seen her before.”

“She has to be wizard-born to arrive on a carpet,” somebody else answered. “But what kind of witch wears a head-scarf?”

“A Muslim one?” Rüdiger suggested softly so the older student wouldn’t hear him.

Joachim shrugged.

“Maybe wizards don’t have the same religions as normal people,” Sonja said.

“Of course we do,” Margarete scoffed. “What else would we believe? And we’re normal people, too.”

“But you can do magic,” Sonja pointed out.

“But so can you,” Joachim reminded her and laughed at her perplexed look.

There was an even bigger uproar a few minutes later when a large golden coach arrived, pulled by four instead of the usual two bulls. The children held on to each others’ hands and those of Herrn von Raifburg so they wouldn't be separated.

"So is that the empress?" Sonja asked.

"Oh no," Lord von Raifburg explained. "The emperor isn't married. The princess is the daughter of a cousin and that is just her mother. Quite an influential woman, of course, but not really a royal."

Rüdiger saw Margarete’s sort of friends hurry towards the coach to meet the princess, but Margarete herself just shouted a greeting and stayed where she was.

“I wish I knew where Hildegard is,” she said to Sonja. “I’m sure she’d like to meet you all and make friends.”

The crowd had only just settled down again when there was a hissing noise and a small white building grew out of the floor next to the fence.

"The Seilbahn!" people shouted and the rough boy from earlier came shoving through again in the opposite direction shouting for someone called Heinrich to wait for him.

"Wait," Lord von Raifburg told the children when they started to push in that direction as well. "The older students will push you aside anyway. Let them clear out first and then there'll be breathing space."

Rüdiger looked around to see what cousin Friedrich thought about that, but apparently the older children had been carried away in the rush. Margarete didn’t seem too worried about it, though.

“We can just follow the other students,” she pointed out. “There is only one school here after all.”

So they stayed where they were and watched the cabin arrive and leave a few times. With every departure the crowd got a little smaller and soon there was no pushing and shoving at their end of the clearing anymore and a while later they walked over to the Seilbahn station.

The cabin arrived again and now Rüdiger could see a Heinzelmann standing in the door of the station.

"Only twelve in the cabin!" he shouted to the children trying to shove past.

The students, second or third classlers from their size, didn’t seem to pay him any attention, but it looked like only the right number got past him somehow.

Joachim held the others back when they wanted to push to the front.

"Let’s not shove past the nobles," he said. "They can get nasty."

"But all the other boys are doing it," Sonja pointed out.

"And you're noble, too," Rüdiger added.

"Not like they are," Joachim said. "Just let them go first."

“But there’s Hildegard,” Margarete protested pointing further ahead. “Hey Hildegard! Hildegard!”

Augustina and Kunigunde who had been talking eagerly to two girls Rüdiger hadn’t seen before turned around and shook their heads disapprovingly. Rüdiger was more interested in the two strangers, though. One of them had to be the princess, he assumed, but they were both dressed in very expensive looking robes and he hadn’t been able to catch sight of her through the crowd when she’d arrived.

The cabin returned and everybody moved forward.

"No Franziska, don't get in!" Henriette yelled at the backs of the four girls. "Wait for meee!"

Nobody reacted as everybody pushed and shoved forward and the Heinzelmann once again reminded them that only twelve people were allowed through. He assumed that Franziska must be whichever unknown girl wasn’t the princess. If so Henriette needn’t have worried. The princess’ group didn’t make it into the cabin.

"We should get into the next one," he noticed.

Joachim nodded suddenly looking nervous. "With the princess," he whispered.

"Oh cool!" Sonja exclaimed. "Which one is she?"

"The one in the golden robes with pearls sewn on. Do you think they're real?"

Rüdiger and Sonja just shrugged. Rüdiger assumed that the girl had no more experience with real pearls than he had. Aside from her fancy robe the princess looked like any other ten year old girl he'd met, a little on the plump side and not overly pale or pretty. Then again he supposed princesses were just girls with special parents. No reason they should look like fairy tale creatures.

“It’s possible,” Margarete said. “I wouldn’t want to wear real pearls to school, though. Just imagine how careful one’d have to be with such a robe!”

"Well, looks like she already has friends anyway," Sonja said a little disappointedly.

"What did you expect?" Joachim sounded honestly surprised. "Every noble family with a girl her age has been trying to throw the child at her for years. Of course she knows them all."

It took a while before the cabin returned and they spent it waving goodbye to Herrn von Raifburg who’d decided to stay behind as no other parents were standing in line for the Seilbahn. Only the Heinzelmännchen were lining up behind their masters.

In front of them Henriette squealed at the sight of a lizard and started calling for Franziska again. She finally turned around to shake her head at the little girl and said: "Oh shut up, nobody cares." before returning to her conversation with the princess.

Then the cabin arrived and they pushed past the Heinzelmann and inside.

"Franziska!" Henriette yelled once again as they stepped into the cabin.

There were enough seats for everybody, but apparently none of them pleased Henriette.

"Please Franziska! Sit with meee!" she pleaded standing in the middle of the small isle and blocking their way.

Franziska, a girl with long blond hair worn in a tight bun, didn't look like she was going to budge. She already had a seat right next to the princess and looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"Like I want to sit with a tiny little baby girl," she snapped. "Go sit over there with the common boys. Maybe the idiot refugee is desperate enough to make friends with you. It's not like he'll have a lot of other options."

A boy in denims and a t-shirt sitting across from her rolled his eyes.

"And maybe your sister is idiot," he stated.

"We aren't sisters!" Franziska yelped. "She's a distant cousin."

"Mama said you're supposed to watch out for me!" Henriette whined.

"What am I, your Heinzelfrau? Stop making a scene like a baby and maybe I'll let you hang around sometimes. Now get lost. You're holding us up."

"But," Henriette sobbed.

"Oh, come on," Margarete said. "Just sit anywhere. It's not like it really matters for one little trip."

Henriette only sobbed harder and Margarete finally grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards two empty seats.

"Oh, in God's name, sit with me then," she said pushing her into the one that was closer to Augustina. "Here's a seat. Now sit."

“But I wanted to sit next to you!” Sonja protested the arrangement.

"You're supposed to address a noble girl as Fräulein!" Augustina, now sitting between Margarete and the princess snapped. "And curtsey!"

“You can sit across from me,” Margarete decided ignoring Augustina. “And then Joachim and Rüdiger next to you. Then we can all talk comfortably.”

Rüdiger shrugged and obeyed. It put him next to the foreign boy which he didn’t mind at all. His bad German reminded him of Franzek and Mustaffa.

“You can’t just sit down!” yelped Augustina. “You have to bow to the princess and ask her permission!”

"Oh please Augustina, don't make them get up again," groaned the princess. "Or we'll never get out of this station."

"Someone needs to teach those commoners basic courtesy," Augustina insisted.

"I'm sure it can wait until after we've arrived," commented Kunigunde from Franziska's other side.

It was too late to get up again anyway. There was a slight bump and then the Seilbahn started gliding down into the ravine.

“Isn’t this great,” Margarete said. “I bet the view from up here’s wonderful when it isn’t so foggy. Have you ever been here before, Sonja?”

Sonja shook her head. “No never.”

“You, Joachim? Rüdiger?”

"Margarete, those two are commoners and the von Raifburgs are the lowest of the low," Augustina interrupted yet again. "You can't just ..."

"What? Talk with our classmates?"

"I is Maxim," the foreign boy said ignoring Augustina. "Not refugee. Father work in Austria, we move here."

"I'm Fabian," the boy next to him introduced himself.

"Dieter," replied the boy in the far corner. "So where are you all from?"

While they talked the cabin slid through the fog which seemed to suddenly disappear. Rüdiger wondered about that a little. Had they really been high enough to be above the clouds on a hot and sunny day like this?

"It's an illusion, duh," the princess explained. "To hide the valley from non-magicals."

Now they could see that the ravine was wider than it had appeared from above and full of trees, with only a single artificial structure visible from this height. It couldn't be the school, though. It looked much too small.

Henriette took one glance out of the window, shrieked and latched on to Margarete's arm.

"What's wrong with you now?" Margarete asked sounding annoyed.

"The baby is afraid of heights," Franziska announced with a smirk. "Can you imagine anything more pathetic? Why, oh why, do I have to be related to that?"

Some of the noble girls laughed while Rüdiger just sighed. He wasn't sure which cousin was more annoying, Henriette with her fear of everything or Franziska and her constant complaints about it. So far Margarete seemed to be the only noble girl that was actually pleasant to be around. On the up side Maxim seemed pretty nice and Dieter and Fabian appeared to be okay as well.

"There's a small river that runs between the trees," Fabian told Dieter while everybody else was still staring at Henriette. "My Papa fell into it once. Right off the bridge."

"Mine threw Mama in," Dieter replied. "At least I suppose it must have been that river."

"The bottom station has to be somewhere behind those trees," Joachim pointed. "The cables disappear there. Then there's supposed to be a brick wall and a gate somewhere next to it. That leads into the school."

"The wall's overgrown," Margarete added. "That must be why we can't see it from here, but that thing there must be the gate. There's a statue of an angel on top."

They pressed their noses to the windows hoping to spot the wall or station. All except Henriette of course, who was sitting rigidly in her seat with her eyes closed tightly.

Joachim turned out to have been right. The station was just behind the trees he'd pointed out. The cabin came to a stop prompting another shriek from Henriette and the children rushed outside excited to see their new surroundings.

"Two, four, six ..." the Heinzelfrau manning the bottom station counted them as they came out. "... eleven ... Eleven? No, no, no that’s too soon."

She went into the cabin muttering to herself and a moment later Henriette came tripping out and landed face-first on the platform outside.

"Franziska! You didn't tell me we'd arrived!" She scrambled back to her feet and ran after the noble girls who were walking a little ahead of the rest of the group. "Franziska! Wait for meee!"

There weren't any other students in sight. Apparently they’d all gone into the school already. Behind them the cabin departed again climbing back up towards where they could see a small dark dot slowly drifting towards them.

“That’ll be the last few children that were behind us,” Margarete commented seeing Rüdiger watching it. “And the first of the Heinzelmännchen.”

“Don’t the princess and her friends have schoolbags?” Sonja asked looking after the group of arrogant girls.

“Their Heinzelfrauen will bring them,” Margarete said with a shrug. “Come on, I don’t want to be the last in the classroom.”

They hurried after the girls that now stood in front of the arch with the angel statue on top. The angel was huge and standing on only one foot as if about to take off while blowing into a trumpet. Rüdiger wondered whether it was safe to fly while playing an instrument. He was pretty sure Mama would have forbidden it for fear of an accident.

“Stand aside!” the princess commanded. “It’s my first entry into the school and I want to do it properly.”

She stepped under the arch, but stopped and looked up and then around in confusion, walked back out, looked up at the angel and then walked forward again. Nothing happened.

“Hey angel!” she shouted. “It’s me! The imperial heir!”

The stone statue, of course, didn’t react and the princess came back again.

“What’s wrong with the damned thing?” she demanded.

“Maybe you didn’t go in far enough,” Franziska suggested. “Why don’t you try again and go all the way through?”

The princess started forward again.

“Go through step by step and see where it starts!” Kunigunde called after her excitedly.

The princess slowed down.

“Oh, just get on with it!” Margarete shouted impatiently. “We’ll never get inside at this rate.”

“This stupid,” Maxim announced when the princess stopped and once again started to come back. “Come. Can play without us.”

“No, don’t!” called Joachim, but the others had already followed Maxim under the arch.

Rüdiger fully agreed with Maxim. This obedience to the silly wishes of a bunch of arrogant girls really had gone much too far and he was just about to turn around and tell Joachim so when an ear splitting sound startled him into silence. It reverberated through the arch causing the walls to vibrate and the children to press their hands over their ears. Was this what the princess had been waiting for? Rüdiger looked at her to reassure himself.

But she too seemed startled, her mouth still stood open to protest, but through the painful, shrieking nobody could hear her. After a moment she too covered her ears and ran through the arch to the other side.

The others followed her. The horrid sound continued, but it wasn’t quite so loud once they got away from the reverberating walls of the arch.

Panting and frightened they stopped after a few metres and took their hands off their ears.

"What was that?" Rüdiger gasped.

The princess looked at him down her upturned nose. "That, you common oaf, is the stone angel's salute,” she shouted. “He blows his horn only to announce the arrival of the imperial heir. Me!"

"So you have to listen to that horrible noise every time you go through there?" Rüdiger asked. "In that case I'm glad I'm just a common farm boy. That sound would drive me insane."

"Py," made the princess and turned her back to him.

"Py," made Rüdiger and turned his back on her.

This side of the overgrown brick-wall seemed to be a badly kept park with bushes cut into not quite geometrical shapes, lawns in need of mowing and the occasional bushel of grass or dandelion peeking out of the cobblestone paths.

Above the arch the angel was still standing on only one leg, but now his cheeks were bulging as he blew into his trumpet as hard as he could without ever pausing for breath. Apparently animated stone statues didn’t need to breathe.

At the opposite end of the park – or was it a garden? – students were crowding out of an opening in the rock wall to stare at the spectacle. Rüdiger almost asked the princess how to turn off the salute, but surely she’d have done that by now, if she knew how. What a stupid arrogant cow she was to be proud of being able to start such an awful noise. And then she didn’t even know how to stop it.

But what was he supposed to do now? Joachim and Margarete were still on the other side. Should he go on to the school with Sonja, Maxim, Fabian and Dieter or wait here for the nobles? The only one of them that had made it to this side appeared to be the princess and as far as he was concerned they could have done without her just fine. In fact they wouldn’t even be having this problem if it weren’t for her.

He was just about to turn back to her to inform her of that when the sound from the arch suddenly changed. Now it seemed to be accompanied by the thunder of many footsteps, like a school class running into the gym ... and then the other noble children burst out of the arch at top speed, hands covering their ears and their colourful robes flapping.

For a moment Rüdiger feared that they would run him over, but then they stopped before him.

“Oh God, what an awful sound!” Joachim shouted.

“Next time we have to make sure we’re inside before the princess arrives,” Rüdiger decided.

“Do you think she really caused this?” Sonja asked wide eyed.

“It’s a magical salute for the emperor’s heir,” Margarete explained. “But I had no idea that it sounds this awful. And wasn’t it supposed to stop once you’re through?” She looked expectantly at the princess who glared back haughtily.

"Why are you standing around here chattering like geese?" a woman’s voice snapped at them. "Get on with it."

Rüdiger turned around and saw an adult woman in a red robe coming towards them from the school. Most of the gawking students that had been there a moment ago had disappeared.

"Well, I'm waiting!" she snapped grabbing Rüdiger by the shoulder and pulling him towards the entrance. Her bright red lipstick making her seem almost aggressive.

“But,” he said and pointed towards the arch. “The stone angel ...”

"Don't get uppity with me! March, march off into your classroom." Her sharp long fingernails dug almost painfully into his shoulder.

Well, if she didn’t want them to explain what had happened, maybe she’d dealt with the problem before and knew how to fix the angel.

He shrugged at Joachim and started towards the school. Most of the others followed, only the princess and her entourage remained behind. Rüdiger decided that he didn’t care what they told the wizardess in red.

What had looked like a cave entrance from afar actually turned out to be another arch with a door at the end. A door that was standing open invitingly. In passing Rüdiger also noticed a smaller closed door in the right side of the arch that carried the inscription ski-shed and remembered that Herr von Raifburg had asked him whether he had skis. Did wizards have something so normal as skiing lessons?

Behind the door they found a corridor lit by oil lamps. The floor was covered in large black and white tiles, many of them cracked, as were the walls which had originally been white, but were now greyed and in some places blackened from the smoke of the oil lamps and dirty fingerprints and occasionally showed splashes of spilled and dried liquids. Between the first two lamps on the right was a door to a small office with unusually small furniture, probably made for a Heinzelmann, but there was nobody inside now.

Four pairs of lamps down, the corridor ended at the foot of a wide staircase with two other corridors running off to the left and right.

A large plaque hanging from the ceiling proclaimed "Patschenpflicht!" in red letters.

“The wardrobe has to be somewhere around here,” Joachim stated.

They found it easily by following the noise of their fellow students. It was to the right just after the door. There was a row of hooks going all around its walls and a few isles in the middle, but no benches to sit on or leave ones shoes under and no indication which row was supposed to belong to which class.

“There are some free hooks,” Margarete pointed to a place in the back. “Let’s claim those.”

The wall was covered with graffiti, but another look around assured Rüdiger that the other rows didn’t look much better and at least their things would be together.

Someone had cut carved lines into the wall, probably with a pocket knife, but if they were meant to form letters or a picture, Rüdiger couldn't make it out. Next to them was a drawing of a face that stuck out its tongue and on the other side the inscription 'Franziskus loves Jelka' in strange old fashioned handwriting.

He took out his Patschensackerl, removed his house shoes from it and hung it on one of the hooks leaving his street shoes under it.

“Don’t we get name stickers next to our hooks?” he asked. They’d had those in primary school.

“No look like,” reported Maxim. “There no old ones anywhere.”

“I hate these,” Margarete commented frowning at her fluffy pink slippers. “My Mama always makes me wear pink like a stupid Barbarella doll.”

“You mean Barbie?” Sonja asked. “I’ve got two. And a Ken.”

“No, Barbarella,” Margarete insisted. “The silly witch dolls with the pink wands and weird frilly bonnets.”

“Like those postcards with girls in long dresses and weird white bonnets? I didn’t know there were toys like that.”

But Margarete knew neither Barbie nor postcards.

“Maybe you can visit me someday,” Sonja suggested. “And see my toys.”

“Your Patschen aren’t that bad,” Joachim offered consolingly. “Sure, the colour is awful, but a lot of girls like pink.”

“The little blinking lights are cool,” Rüdiger offered glancing down at his common brown slippers. “Mine are all boring and non-magical.”

None of the other children’s Patschen had any obvious magic on them, but Joachim’s had flying bulls and Maxim’s lions’ heads ...

“They’re just so ...” Margarete shrugged and frowned. “The pink stuff always gets dirty, you know and then Mama complains that I’m not careful with it. I’d much rather have plainer shoes that I don’t always have to mind.”

“So, which way do you think the classroom is?” Dieter asked when they reached the foot of the stairs again.

“Not upstairs,” Joachim answered. “Papa said only the Headmaster’s office and Lehrerzimmer are on the first floor and the second floor isn’t used at all anymore. All the classrooms are on the ground floor now.”

“They have lot more students once?” Maxim asked.

“This used to be the only magical Gymnasium in the Austro-Hungarian Empire,” Joachim explained nodding. “And since you couldn’t expect the students to travel though the entire empire everyday, they used to have dorms and everything, too.”

“And there were two Hauptschulen in Salzburg, one for girls and one for boys, and another two in Budapest,” Margarete added. “That’s how many students there were back then.”

That didn’t help them to find their classroom, though. There was noise coming both from the right and the left corridor so there were probably classrooms in both directions.

“We’ll just go this way,” Margarete decided pointing, but just then two much older girls arrived from the opposite direction.

“Excuse me!” Maxim called out walking towards them. “You know where first class?”

“I think we just passed it. Second or third door on the right, or somewhere thereabouts.”

“Thank you,” Maxim said politely before turning back to the group. “We go this way.”

As it turned out it was actually the first door on the right.

“That’s nice,” Fabian commented. “Not so far to walk.”

 

Volkssschule – “folk-school” – in Austria: primary school Heinzelmännchen - a magical race, usually benign Seilbahn – “rope-train” – Um yeah, like this one: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/12/Cablecar.zelllamsee.500pix.jpg Seilbahnstation – The place where you get on and off the Seilbahn. Völkerball – A ballgame played in Austrian primary schools. Very popular with the popular kids. (I’ll make them play it in Rüdiger’s first Turnen lesson to explain the details – and hopefully why it’s not at all popular with a usually overlooked minority.) Turnen – Sports/Physical Education Heinzelfrauen – plural of Heinzelfrau Heinzelfrau – a female Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign) Patschenpflicht – “house-shoe-duty” It is mandatory to wear house shoes here. Patschensackerl – Bag containing a student’s house-shoes when not in use. Patschen – house shoes Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12) Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)


	7. Chapter 6: Professor Pospischil

Chapter 6: Professor Pospischil

 

“1. Klasse” it said on the plaque next to the door, and below that in slightly smaller letters: “Klassenvorstand: Prof. Mag. Karl Pospischil”.

“Klassenvorstand?“ asked Sonja. “Shouldn’t it be Klassenlehrer?”

“No,” Rüdiger explained. “That’s only the teacher in the Volkschule that teaches the class all the time. In secondary school where you have a different Fachlehrer or Professor for each subject, one of them has to be responsible for general stuff concerning the class. That one’s called Klassenvorstand. I wonder what this Professor Pospischil is like.”

Hadn’t those boys on the bus mentioned him?

Surprisingly the walls of the classroom weren’t white. Apparently they’d been painted pale green once, though they’d turned grey over time. On the ceiling above the first row of desks, however, there was a handprint that looked like it might be completely free of dust and showed what was probably the original colour. Rüdiger couldn’t imagine how it had gotten there, though. Even if one were to climb onto a desk, he thought, one wouldn’t be able to touch the ceiling.

In place of the usual teacher’s desk there was a lectern next to a blackboard that was black instead of the usual dark green and didn’t have wings to open for additional writing space. Next to it stood an old fashioned cupboard that looked a lot more ordinary.

That the washbasin he was used to from primary school was missing didn’t surprise him as much as he remembered that Flo had said there weren’t any in the classrooms at the Hauptschule either. One was supposed to go to the toilet to wash one’s hands.

The students’ desks looked strange. Except for a small bit facing the blackboard the surfaces were tilted. The flat bit had one long indentation for each student which was probably meant for one’s penholders and to the right of it a round one for the ink bottle. Wouldn’t their books and notebooks slide off?

“Let’s sit by the window,” Joachim suggested and led the way to a desk in the third row where the chairs were still standing precariously on the tilted desks.

“It isn’t all that great,” Margarete’s friend, who’d reserved the second row window side desk told them. “It only shows empty blue sky, not even any clouds. I think there must be some spell on the windows so they can’t distract you.”

“At least it’s well lit,” Rüdiger said to hide his disappointment.

“I’m Hildegard,” she introduced herself belatedly. “Hildegard Hellbach-Blau.”

“Angenehm,” Joachim said politely. “I’m Joachim von Raifburg, but you’re welcome to call me Joachim. And …”

“Fanziska! Wait for meeeeeeeee!” an already familiar shout interrupted them.

“Oh no,” Margarete moaned. “Here she comes again!”

"My things aren't here!" the princess complained loudly only moments after entering the classroom. "Where is that lazy Heinzelfrau? Wedel! Wedel!"

“The Heinzelmännchen were all at least two cabs behind us on the Seilbahn,” Rüdiger reminded her. “She probably hasn’t had time to find the classroom.”

The princess glared at him as if it were his fault that her things were missing and Rüdiger glared back. He'd seen enough of her and the arrogant bitches she called friends to know that he wanted as little as possible to do with her. Nobles and princess or not, they could at least make the effort to be friendly. Margarete and Joachim were managing just fine after all.

“Py!” the princess made finally and turned her back on him to claim the first two desks in the front row for herself and her entourage.

“We were here first!” protested a brown haired girl with lots of freckles. “It’s our desk!”

“No, it isn’t,” the princess declared haughtily. “The school belongs to my uncle, the emperor. As do all of you. And I as his heir and the future owner claim these two desks for myself.”

“She not that fat,” whispered Maxim who’d chosen the desk behind Joachim and Rüdiger.

The four unlucky children in the front row reluctantly made way and moved their possessions to the back of the classroom.

“But Franziska, you were supposed to sit with me!” Henriette protested when Franziska sat down next to the princess, but nobody paid her any mind.

For a while she stood helplessly in front of the princess’ desk, but in the end Kunigunde and Augustina pushed her aside and told her to get lost so they could have an important ‘adult’ conversation.

Henriette sobbed and retreated towards the door, where she was almost immediately seized by the shoulders and pushed away again, this time more gently, though, as a man in perfectly nonmagical looking trousers, shirt and jumper entered and closed the door behind himself.

Most of the children fell silent and stared at him and his clothing in surprise.

“No, no, no,” he announced. “How awfully ill-mannered. When a professor, or in fact any adult, enters the classroom, you’re supposed to show him your respect by standing up. Come on, everybody, get up!”

Slightly confused they rose.

“No, no, no!” he continued to protest. “Push in the chairs properly and stand up straight behind them. Your posture shows your respect for your professors. We had to study hard for many years to reach our positions. And what are you still doing here?” he asked Henriette who had remained exactly where he’d pushed her. “Go stand at your place. You’re holding everything up!”

Henriette sobbed once more. There were only two seats left unclaimed, one next to Maxim and the other next to a tall, fat boy at the door side of the last row. Rüdiger’s primary school teacher would never have allowed the smallest child in class to sit that far in the back, but apparently at a Gymnasium nobody cared about such details. After a moment of hesitation Henriette slipped in beside the fat boy.

“That’s better,” said the professor. “Good morning, children. Sit down.”

There was a lot of clattering and squeaking as more children than Rüdiger could remember ever seeing together in one classroom all pulled out their chairs and dropped into them at the same time.

“Stop!” shouted the professor. “Again, and quietly this time!”

Everybody had to get up and sit down again and again until the professor was finally satisfied.

“That’s how it’s done,” he finally announced. “And now, to business. I’m Professor Pospischil, your Klassenvorstand and Sprache und Kultur professor. That’s very lucky for all of us, as Sprache und Kultur is the most important subject for young wizards. Even more so in first class. Do you know what Sprache und Kultur is?”

A few children raised their hands, but apparently Professor Pospischil didn’t want to know their answer after all as he just kept on talking.

“Sprache und Kultur is everything that your peers are learning in non magical schools. I am expected to teach you the basics of German and Mathematics as well as all the other knowledge and skills you need to get by in the non-magical world and, if you choose, to even have a non magical job. However that means that we have a single subject to cover everything non-magicals learn in the first class of the Hauptschule or the Gymnasium. Obviously that is impossible unless you manage to do a lot of work at home without me. You should spend at least an hour a day outside of the time that you require to do your homework studying Sprache und Kultur. And I don’t mean just preparing for a lesson, if you have me the next day, or every school day, I really mean every day, including Sundays and holidays. Then you’ve got more time, after all, and can maybe even afford more than only one hour. You’d only be sitting around being bored anyway. And do remember not to include the time spent on your homework. I really mean one hour pure studying time. Without that minimum effort you aren’t going to pass in my subject. Do you understand that?”

They looked at him in wide eyed silence. One hour a day? Rüdiger thought that he could manage that. His way home after school would take less time than expected now and obviously this subject was particularly important for those who like him would return to nonmagical life in four years.

“I know, you’ll hear everywhere that we can’t fail you, because there is no magical Hauptschule anymore, but don’t feel too safe. It is only partially true. Every one of you can repeat twice without flunking out of the Gymnasium and once you have completed your Schulpflicht we can kick you out without a problem. If a student really is too stupid to keep up with the demands of the Gymnasium despite his best efforts it does happen now and then that, if he works really hard, we help him along a little the second time around so he does manage to reach fourth class. But there is the end of the line for all students that are too stupid or too lazy! Only those who actually deserve it get to reach fifth class, and a Faulpelz, that doesn’t want to study, cannot expect any mercy before then either. Is that clear?”

Rüdiger gulped. Of course it wasn’t that important what grades he had in doing magic, but leaving school before completing the fourth Hauptschul-class, meant not to have completed any form of education. For the first time in his school career he was afraid that he might not be intelligent enough.

“Sprache und Kultur is a Schularbeitsfach,” Professor Pospischil continued. “As you most likely already know that means that the most important part of your final grade results from the grades you get on the six Schularbeiten we have every year. I will announce the dates for the three Schularbeiten of the first semester as soon as we have a permanent schedule. For this week we only have a provisional one, though, and it looks like this.” He tapped the pointer, a long bamboo stick, against the blackboard and lines and letters appeared on it forming a colourful table. “Copy it, you will need it.”

“But my Heinzelfrau has my schoolbag!” the princess protested while all those students who had come carrying their own things hastily dug out penholders, ink and notebooks or scraps of writing paper.

For a moment Rüdiger considered whether he wanted to offer to tear some pages out of his notebook and offer his spare penholders to two of the boys, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Professor Pospischil merely smiled at the complaint, walked to the door and opened it with an exaggerated bow to the Heinzelmännchen waiting outside and a sweeping hand gesture inviting them inside.

The Heinzelmännchen in turn each bowed or curtseyed to him as they filed in and delivered the schoolbags.

“The first lesson starts at 8 am,” Professor Pospischil reminded them all. “In future, do make sure that you have all the equipment you require for it present by that time as school-foreign persons are not normally allowed into the classroom.”

“Since when is a Heinzelmann a person?” protested one of the noble boys. “They’re mere servants.”

“Yes, whether you believe it or not, Heinzelmännchen count as people,” Professor Pospischil sneered at the boy. “If you want to contest that fact, you’ll need to see headmaster Paracelsus about it. Or maybe you’d like to discuss it with Professor Schnick first?”

The boy’s Heinzelmann snorted then hastily covered it with a cough.

Rüdiger wanted to ask who Professor Schnick was, but he had bigger problems at the moment. Copying a schedule shouldn’t have been hard, but it turned out that penholders and inkpots were a lot more difficult to handle than they looked. Rüdiger had tried them out at home, but the results hadn’t been good then and with the unfamiliar slant of the desk it was even worse. Soon there were several ugly ink stains both on the desk and in the notebook.

At least he wasn’t the only one having problems. About a quarter of the class seemed to never have used penholders before.

“While you’re writing,” Professor Pospischil announced ignoring all their dismayed exclamations and groans. “We’ll go over the class list, emergency addresses, and seating plan.”

He opened the Klassenbuch to the first page. If it was structured the same way as the one in primary school, that ought to be where the alphabetical list of students was, Rüdiger remembered from the occasional glances he’d gotten when his teacher had made her entries there.

“Thirty-one students,” Professor Pospischil said in an almost awed tone. “One more and we’d have had two first classes for the first time in decades. Ah, but it would have been difficult to organise all those additional teaching hours, so I guess it’s for the best. Which one of you is von Amselfeld, Nikolaus?”

Nikolaus raised his hand. All the noble boys were sitting in the second row, but over on the door side of the classroom so that Rüdiger didn’t have a very good view of the boy. He thought he recognised him from when Margarete had pointed them out, though.

Professor Pospischil nodded, casually unscrewed the lid of his ink bottle with one hand, dipped his pen into it and wrote something further in the back of the Klassenbuch. That had to be where the seating plan was. Even though he didn’t seem to pay any attention to it at all not a single drop of ink fell off his pen. How was he doing that?

“You’re a protestant, Herr Nikolaus?” he asked.

“Yes, Herr Professor. Evangelisch A.B.”

“And your home address is?”

“But Herr Professor, you know my address! You’ve been there yourself!”

“Not officially,” stated Professor Pospischil and read the address out from a piece of paper.

Once Nikolaus had confirmed that the address was correct Professor Pospischil cautioned him that protestant students had no business being in the Religion lessons on the schedule.

“Protestant Religion is on Friday in the sixth lesson in the fifth class. Zu Hinterfels, Kaspar?”

The boy who didn’t think Heinzelmännchen were people raised his hand and Rüdiger went back to his copying. His last name started with Z, so he would most likely be the last boy called on. There was a lot of time until then.

The lines of his table looked uneven and in the lower right corner they were smeared. A quick check of the bottom of his hand confirmed that it was black with ink. Well, at least the schedule was still readable ... as long as he was careful enough not to smear any more of it. He had to make sure that his hand didn’t touch the paper anymore. Very carefully he began to fill in the time column: 8:00 – 8:50, 8:55 – 9:45 ...

He interrupted his work when “von Raifburg, Joachim” was called, surprised that they had reached the Rs this quickly.

“Did he say von Raifburg?” somebody whispered.

“What’s he doing here?” it came from another corner. “I thought they’d all been banished?”

“Murderer!” a girl shouted.

“Silence!” Professor Pospischil snapped glaring at her. “Yes, the criminals were all banished. Their innocent relatives who happen to have the same last names remain and are sending their children to school like everybody else ... if you don’t mind, Fräulein.”

The girl – Rüdiger was almost sure that she wasn’t a noble – blushed and lowered her eyes back to her schedule and Professor Pospischil returned his attention to Joachim.

“So, Herr Joachim, you are roman catholic and live in ...”

“Yes, Herr Professor,” Joachim said without looking up from his almost finished schedule whenever he was supposed to answer. Apparently that was enough to satisfy Professor Pospischil.

“Von Schneckental, Anselm,” was next.

When he was sure that the professor wasn’t paying any attention to them anymore Rüdiger gently touched Joachim’s arm. “What was that about?”

Joachim flinched. “Nothing,” he hissed. “Just the ... I’ll tell you later.”

“But?”

“Later. It’s a long story. The Pospischil might catch us.“

The professor however didn’t seem to mind all that much when students talked while he was going over the class list. Then again, maybe it was better not to risk making a bad impression on one’s Klassenvorstand on the very first day of school.

He was just about to continue his work on his schedule when Professor Pospischil called out “Zu Dunklelbrunn, Margarete!”

Rüdiger started. They’d reached the girls already? But he was sure that he hadn’t been called on! What had happened? What should he do, if he wasn’t on the class list?

It seemed to take forever to read out Margarete’s address and then came “Von Harrasch, Franziska” followed not very surprisingly by “Von Harrasch, Henriette!”. The cousins had different addresses, Franziska somewhere in Styria and Henriette in Mondsee in Upper Austria.

Maybe he ought to raise his hand and say that he’d been skipped? Or would it be better to wait until they reached the end of the list? Surely Professor Pospischil had to notice that the seating plan was incomplete then.

“Von Lo ... Hang on!” Ah now he’d noticed that he’d skipped part of the list! “Fräulein Henriette?”

“Yes, Herr Professor?”

“You were born in December 1980?”

“Yes, Herr Professor.”

“But then you shouldn’t be here,” Professor Pospischil stated. “This is birth year September 1979 to August 1980. You’re too young.”

“Only by a few months, Herr Professor. I’m almost ten.”

“In four months,” Joachim whispered. “And Maxim’s already eleven.”

“My parents are sending me a year early so I can be with my cousin.”

Professor Pospischil cast a questioning glance at Franziska. The cousins could hardly have sat any further apart. “I see,” he claimed anyway.

There was some more whispering when he called “Von Lothringen, Anna-Theresia!”, but the home address of the princess wasn’t read out.

Both “Von Schreckenstein, Kunigunde!” and “Von Schwanenfels, Augustina!“ were a year late which, according to Professor Pospischil, explained why the class was so unusually large.

Rüdiger wished he knew why. Maxim had mentioned that he’d been put a grade below his age level when he’d first come to Austria, because he hadn’t known any German yet, but Kunigunde and Augustina couldn’t possibly be immigrants. Were they really both so stupid that they’d failed a year in primary school?

And then, all of a sudden, Professor Pospischil called “Berger, Dieter!”

They weren’t done with the boys after all! But why had he called some of the girls early?

“Phew, I almost thought he’d forgotten the rest of the boys when he started calling on girls,” he admitted.

“Nonsense,” Hildegard laughed. “That was just the nobles. He’s only starting with the commoners now.”

And almost everybody else had finished copying the schedule. Rüdiger quickly returned to his work. The strange acronyms on the schedule meant nothing to him, but he copied them exactly each in the correct ink colour and hoped that Joachim or Margarete would be able to explain them.

“You are without confession?” Professor Pospischil asked just as Rüdiger was exchanging his red ink bottle for the green one. His desk was getting very colourful.

Confession? What was Fabian supposed to confess? He hadn’t done anything to the stone angel anymore than Rüdiger had.

“Yes, Herr Professor,” Fabian answered not the slightest bit nervously.

“Are you in Religion classes anyway?”

Surely whatever Fabian was supposed to have done couldn’t have been that bad!

“No, Herr Professor,” said Fabian.

“Well, one of you must be registered for roman catholic Religion lessons despite not being a roman catholic. We have ordered one more book than we have catholic students.”

A blond girl raised her hand. “That must be me, Herr Professor. And actually, we are catholic, we just quit the church officially because of the church tax.”

“Ah yes, then you, Fabian, have Religion lessons off, and you, girl, you have to be there,” Professor Pospischil explained. “And don’t you dare do it the other way around, or we’re in big trouble.”

Everybody laughed.

“What does without confession mean?” Rüdiger asked after all.

“That you no religion, no believe,” Maxim explained.

“Novak, Günter!” Professor Pospischil called and since Rüdiger didn’t know Günter at all he returned his attention to his schedule.

Despite all his caution some more drops of ink had fallen onto the paper and somehow Rüdiger had managed to put his hand in one of them. Now he was leaving both black and green smears on everything he touched. He wished there were somewhere he could wash his hands.

“Obertaler, Franz!” Professor Pospischil called a few minutes later.

“Hia, Professa!” shouted the fat boy next to Henriette. He had to be the Viennese that he’d heard insult Maxim on the bus!

“I hope you can write proper German,” Professor Pospischil remarked. “I can’t possibly tolerate that accent in a Schularbeit.”

“Oba jo, Hea Professa,” Franz assured him not very convincingly.

The professor looked slightly pained, but continued without further comment.

The next name on the list probably didn’t improve his feelings: “Pawlow, Maxim!”

“I here,” Maxim replied and the Professor winced.

“It’s I am here, or Here I am.” he corrected. “Please try to speak in complete sentences or you certainly won’t pass my subject.”

Rüdiger thought that was a little mean. After all Maxim hadn’t been living in Austria nearly as long as Franzek who hadn’t yet completely mastered German grammar either.

Maxim was without confession himself it turned out. That was how he’d known!

And then it was Rüdiger’s own turn. “Zweigl, Rüdiger!”

Neither his name, though much more common in Germany, nor his accent seemed to draw any attention, but his address apeared to confuse the professor. Rüdiger didn’t really understand why as the Raifburgs’ castle didn’t have a street number either.

“It’s a solitary farm,” he tried desperately to explain. “On a mountain, by a hiking path. There aren’t any other houses, honestly. Joachim’s crow doesn’t have a problem finding it anyway.”

Finally Professor Pospischil agreed to leave the address as it was and moved on to “Bauer, Jasmin!” and Rüdiger was allowed to finish his schedule.

By the time he looked up from his finished work it was Sonja’s turn, but she was lucky enough to have a satisfactory street number.

Next came Hildegard, without confession and without Religion classes, and then two girls who would be attending Islamic Religion, Friday, sixth lesson, in seventh class. The first was Fadime from Vienna, but with a Turkish rather than Viennese accent and the second Nadja whose arrival on her family’s flying carpet had caused such a stir earlier.

Then there were Ivonne Schuster, Sabine Untersbach – another protestant, but somehow a different version from Nikolaus – and finally the blond girl that was without confession, but catholic anyway. Her name was Sigrid Zeiler.

“Very good. Have you all copied your schedule? Then here are a few more things you will have to remember. As you no doubt saw on your way in there’s Batschenpflicht in the school. Running is forbidden in all corridors and classrooms, being late isn’t tolerated. All homework is to be done and handed in on time, repeated ‘forgetting’ will be punished. Your Turnsackerln have no business being in the gym area except during your Turnen lessons. You are to take them home afterwards and to let your mothers wash the sports clothes so they’ll be nice and fresh for the next lesson. Doing magic without explicit permission from a professor is forbidden ... fire alert and assassin alert ...”

It was a lot more information than Rüdiger could remember all at once and only a minute after the professor had told them he’d forgotten how to tell the difference between a fire alert and an assassin alert and where to flee during which. Not that it worried him. They’d had fire drills every year in primary school and there’d never been a real fire and the idea that a wizard or magical creature should invade the school and run amok seemed even less likely. Surely no school had ever had an assassin alert. He wondered how anyone had thought of it in the first place.

While he was talking Professor Pospischil kept looking towards the door and finally, just as he was handing out the forms to sign up for school milk, there was a knock and a girl in a blue robe entered.

“The ... I mean ... Professor von Hintersbach said to tell you, you can come now, Professor Pospischil.“

She was gone again before Professor Pospischil had said ”Thank you.”

“Alright,” he ordered after a moment’s pause. “Line up in Zweierreihe by the ... Stop! Everybody back to your seats! Sit down. And if you don’t manage to do it slowly, quietly and orderly, I’ll decide the pairs.”

With the exception of a minor scuffle over which pair was to go first they managed. Professor Pospischil separated the contenders and to the horror of the princess and most of the other nobles picked two common girls to lead the class.

“That’s just what the Pospischil’s like,” Nikolaus whispered. “He always favours the commoners.”

“Unfair,” Kaspar complained.

“It’s not at all unfair,” Rüdiger commented to Joachim. “And the Pospischil didn’t favour anyone. Those two were simply particularly quiet.”

“They’re both from non-magical families, though,” Joachim stated surprising Rüdiger who didn’t even remember their names. “I do think that he did that on purpose.”

For a while they stood there just whispering, but soon the sound level began to rise again and one boy was still kneeling next to his desk apparently hard at work, though Rüdiger couldn’t see what he was doing.

"Aren't you done, yet!" Professor Popischil snapped at him finally.

“My ink bottle fell off the desk,” The boy explained sitting up and now they could all see the ink-soaked tissue in his hand. “How are we supposed to keep them from sliding off on those stupid tilted desks anyway?”

"And what exactly did you think this was for?" Professor Pospischil demanded pointing at the round indentation in the boy’s desk. Then he pulled out his wand, made a quick circling motion over the spilled ink and put it away again. "There. Now get in line. We’re all waiting for you alone."

Before he let them through the door he went down the line to inspect whether they were all wearing house shoes, though. One unfortunate boy got told off for still wearing street shoes and started back to his desk.

"Stop!" Professor Pospischil shouted. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To put on my house shoes," the boy explained. “They’re in my schoolbag.”

“Your Batschensackerl belongs in the wardrobe,” Professor Pospischil pointed out, but he wouldn’t let him take it there.

"Not now, we've got better things to do than wait for you all day. You can put it there when we leave for Mass. And what about you? Where are your house shoes?"

“Er, I forgot to bring them,” admitted Ottokar, who’d used the earlier incident to hastily take off his street shoes and duck back to his desk to hide them. “I’ll have them tomorrow, promise!”

“Professor, I need to wash my hands!” the boy who’d spilled the ink shouted as soon as they finally started moving.

So Professor Pospischil led them to the nearest boys' toilet where they all waited patiently while the boy scrubbed his hands as clean as he could manage and the Professor informed them that the corridor their classroom was in led to the Brausaal, where Praktisches Brauen was taught to the higher grades and past it to the Turnsaal 1. Rüdiger used the occasion to quickly rinse off his hands as well, but most of the ink on them had dried by now.

“And at the end of this corridor,” Professor Pospischil explained pointing at the opposite one when they’d finally started moving again and reached the stairs. “Are the Turnsaal 2 and the smokers’ toilet.”

But right now they went upstairs instead. “The second floor classrooms are no longer in use,” the Professor continued. “And you aren’t allowed up here unless you need to speak with a teacher. The old classrooms are all empty anyway, so there’s nothing interesting to see.”

The stairs led further upwards apparently onto a second floor, but they were closed off with a chain.

“What’s up there, Professor?” Sigrid Zeiler asked.

“Oh, only a lot of dust and broken furniture, I imagine,” Professor Pospischil answered. “It used to be the dorms long ago when this was still a boarding school for boys. They haven’t been used since 1914. My grandfather told me the students went home for the summer holidays like any other year, nobody suspecting anything but that same month the war broke out and most of the boarders’ parents decided to keep them home until the hostilities ceased and there just weren’t enough to justify maintaining the staff for 24 hour supervision and a kitchen. So that part of the school was closed until after the war and the staff reduced to only the minimum required to cover every subject for the students that could still come. The old Gymnasien were closed entirely and the student numbers of the girls’ Hauptschule dwindled so much that in the end the last handful of students joined us here as well. Even that was still considered a temporary measure at the time, but we lost all the far territories that made boarding necessary and kept our student numbers high enough to justify four magic schools and so the temporary measures have continued for ... Well, you’re the fourth generation.”

He walked on in silence after telling that story and Rüdiger just read the plaques on the doors for himself. The first one they passed said “Direktion, Direktor Karl-August Paracelsus” and across from that was another door where it said “Lehrmittelkammerl”.

Next to the Direktion was the “Sekretariat, Fr. Edeltraut von Cerny”.

Next to the Sekretariat was the Lehrerzimmer and next to the Lehrmittelkammerl it said “Schularztzimmer”.

“There’s an actual doctor here?” Rüdiger asked in surprise.

“Of course not,” Joachim assured him. “My Papa told me all about it. The Schularzt comes once a year to examine everybody and besides that only, in case of medical emergencies. The room is just there to store the magicinal equipment.”

The corridor ended at a large double-door. Professor Pospischil opened one side of it announcing “And this is our good old Festsaal ... and good, young Frau von Cerny the secretary.”

It was a big room with an empty and forgotten looking stage flanked by black, moth-eaten curtains at one end. There were no chairs or benches lined up for an audience, though, only several rows of pushed together desks. It would have looked much like the arrangement in their classroom, except that these desks were the normal, flat kind and there were no chairs here to sit on. Most of them were just standing around uselessly and empty, only the last row had a row of neatly lined up stacks of books on them.

“First class,” Frau von Cerny announced. “Your school books are the ones in this row.” Well, if they had been in any other, they must have been invisible. “Just walk along and take a book off each stack.”

“Except, be careful with the Religion books!” Professor Pospischil interrupted her.

“Ah yes,” Frau von Cerny admitted. “There’s a small problem with those. The money from the Schulbuchaktion didn’t cover all the books you need this year, so we were unable to buy new bibles. You’re getting old ones from the Schülerlade as loans for this year.”

“Old school books?” the princess called out in shock.

“Ewww!” exclaimed Franziska.

“There still is a Schülerlade?” Dieter asked.

“Frau Professor?” Fadime raised her hand shyly even though everybody else was talking loudly without bothering.

“What?” made Frau von Cerny who was probably not used to being addressed by that title at all. “Oh no, dear, no need to worry. Your Koran is completely new. There was just enough money left for the two we needed.”

“What!” screamed Kaspar. “What ... what ... infamy! Those common foreigners get their lying Koran new ...”

“But I only wanted to say that I’ve already got a Koran. I don’t need a second.” Fadime’s explanation was drowned out by the general shouting.

“Come on,” Joachim said. “Let’s get our books before the big rush starts.”

Rüdiger only nodded and followed him around the group of arguing students and the furious Professor Pospischil to the first desk.

“Say, do you know Kaspar, too?” he asked his friend as they started to collect their books. “Like you know the von Harraschs?”

“But of course,” Joachim said. “The zu Hinterfels’ never miss an event. His father is an Edler from Upper Austria. Papa says he loves to make himself more important than he actually is.”

“Is he always like that?” Rüdiger asked. “I mean the way he complained about the Pospischil choosing commoners to go first and now he’s attacking the Turks. Does he begrudge everybody everything?”

Joachim shrugged his right shoulder. His left arm was holding his stack of books which was beginning to get a little heavy. “Probably not. He does like causing a scene.”

“He’s doing it so everybody else will think he’s awfully cool,” somebody behind Rüdiger said. “Just like that Franziska. The nobles are such snobs!”

Rüdiger turned around and saw the girl that sat next to Sonja in class.

“Joachim isn’t,” he pointed out.

“And Margarete’s been pretty nice to us, too,” Sonja agreed. “That’s my new friend Lieselotte,” she added to Rüdiger and Joachim. “She’s from a real, normal magical family.”

“What’s the matter with you Tratschtanten here?” Frau von Cerny’s sharp voice snapped at them. “Are you Catholics?”

The secretary had taken position by the last desk and was supervising the distribution of the Religion books with a sharp tongue and stern eye. The book for roman-catholic Religion was red and rather thin, but the bibles ... well, they were all thick and heavy, but they had very different covers and sizes.

“Wasn’t there a set of identical ones?” Sonja asked.

“Of course not!” Frau von Cerny snapped. “All the decent students keep their books of course. The Schülerlade only contains lost and abandoned books. That doesn’t happen to an entire class.”

“This one’s full of ink stains,” Joachim discovered. “I definitely don’t want that.”

“Well, people who take care of their things don’t lose them. There aren’t any better, so stop being fussy,” Frau von Czerny scolded and slapped a bible onto each of their book stacks. The one Joachim had complained about wasn’t among them, however. These did look halfway decent on the outside at least. “Now, go, go, go, make room for the others.”

“Start a Zweierreihe by the door ... Rüdiger, right?” Professor Pospischil called out from the other end of the row of desks.

“Yes, right!” Rüdiger replied beaming. He could barely believe that the professor had already remembered his name despite the size of the class.

Of course Kaspar immediately complained that it was unfair that Rüdiger and Joachim were allowed to be first. The Pospischil said that he didn’t care what Kaspar thought was or wasn’t fair and made the whole class stand in an orderly Zweierreihe until everybody was silent.

His mood seemed to improve again after that, though and he resumed explaining the rooms they passed.

“This is the Lehrerzimmer,” he told them. “It is of course off limits to you. If you want to talk with a professor, you wait outside the door until he comes out. If the matter is very urgent, you can politely ask a passing professor to ask him to come out, but there will be absolutely no opening the door, looking in, shouting or even knocking. The professors in there are on break and want to be left alone.”

Frau von Cerny, too, was not to be bothered, as she was very busy, and most certainly not the Direktor. As far as Rüdiger was concerned that last bit could have gone without saying, though. The little village primary school hadn’t rated a Lehrerzimmer or secretary, but every school did have a Direktor after all.

They stopped in front of the Lehrmittelkammerl, the Pospischil pulled out a large set of keys and unlocked the door. “Be careful, there isn’t much room in there. Watch that you don’t accidentally push something over.”

“What if we do it on purpose?” someone whispered somewhere behind Rüdiger.

Probably Kaspar again, he assumed.

“He who does it on purpose, will get to enjoy paying for the damage,” the Pospischil answered sharply. “Come on in.”

The Lehrmittelkammerl wasn’t just too small for a whole class, it was also stuffed full of things. The biggest part of the visible teaching materials were large pictures and charts meant to be hung on blackboards or walls. Right next to the door was a bucket full of bamboo pointing sticks, next to the first cupboard stood a stack of boxes full of chalks and against the back wall there were several stacks of large, black cauldrons.

The Pospischil waited until everybody had squeezed in and the last “Franziiiskaaa!” had been silenced.

“This place is off limits to you unless you are in the company of a professor,” he then explained. “For example when you’re supposed to help carry something or when you want to borrow a book from the school library. For that is in here.” He patted an ancient looking cupboard with his hand. “I’m afraid I don’t know who’s in charge of the library this year and the Sprechstunden haven’t been fixed yet either, but to get a book from the library you go to the professor in charge during the break before his Sprechstunde and ask him to unlock the cupboard for you so you can pick one out.”

Then he unlocked it himself and showed them the shelves on which there were a number of very used looking books lined up on each side.

“The two top shelves are the Schülerlade. The shelf below that is suitable for your age group.”

“But I can’t see it!” Henriette shrilled.

“That’s not surprising,” Hildegard commented loudly. “There’s nothing here to see. I’ve got more books in my bedroom than there are in this library. And mine are all suitable for me.”

Their last detour on the way back to class led them to an unmarked, unremarkable door.

“This,” the Pospischil explained. “Is the smokers’ toilet. It is strictly off limits for anyone under sixteen. And you don’t want to go in anyway, because it stinks god-awfully and it isn’t so far from the next real toilet, that you can’t make it no matter how urgently you have to go.”

Back in the classroom he informed them that their homework was to write their names into all their books and count the pages to make sure there weren’t any missing.

“Now we can still exchange a faulty book,” he explained. “If you only notice it in two months, you’ll have to buy the replacement.”

Then he told them to pack their things and once again line up at the door in Zweierreihe.

“Didn’t I tell you the schoolbags are too small?” Rüdiger told Joachim when they found that they couldn’t fit all of their books in and had to carry some under their arms.

“It’ll be fine,” Margarete said with a laugh. “We only have to bring the ones for the subjects we actually have that day anyway.”

“I’ll lead you to the wardrobe where you will put on your shoes,” Professor Pospischil explained before they left. “Then you will all line up again and we walk to the Seilbahn together. Those of you not going to Mass will be dismissed when I say so at the top station and no sooner. Understood?”

This time the corridor outside wasn’t as empty and quiet as it had been when they’d gone up to get their books. There were other Zweierreihen of taller students making their way to the wardrobe as well, laughing and shouting.

“Aww, the tiny little first classlers, all cute and neat!” someone shouted and stuck out his tongue at them.

“I’ll show you cute and neat!” Kaspar yelled, but Professor Pospischil who’d made sure that he walked close to him this time caught him by the arm and shoved him back into the line and the older students laughed even more. Their Klassenvorstand didn’t seem to care.

Unfortunately the Professsor had had less foresight where Henriette was concerned and didn’t notice when her books slid out of her hands and clattered to the floor. She shrieked and dropped to her knees to pick them up so hastily that she dropped her schoolbag in the process.

“Franziska! My books! You’ve got to help me!“ But Franziska who’d been walking right in front of her didn’t even glance back. “Franziiiiska! Wait for meeeee!”

“Be glad she going away,” Rüdiger heard Maxim advise her under his breath as they picked their way past the accident site careful not to step on any of the books. “They just take books away, no help.”

“But ... but I,” Henriette sobbed. “I can’t remember the way.”

Joachim stopped. “Shouldn’t we wait and lead her to the wardrobe? I know the way.”

So did Rüdiger. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d find the Lehrmittelkammerl, or Schularztzimmer again without looking at the plaques, but the wardrobe was easy enough.

“Then she stay with us,” Maxim warned. “And others think we like her and be nasty. Is enough people here. She go with other Professor.”

Besides they had their hands full of their own books and couldn’t help her pick up hers. They walked on with the rest of the class ignoring Henriette’s shrieks for help.

As it turned out there was no need to worry about her anyway. Ottokar had to go back for the shoes he’d so cleverly hidden in his desk earlier and the wardrobe was so full of people that the smaller students found it quite difficult to push through. Many of them had to wait until the higher classes began to clear out and Professor Pospischil conscientiously counted heads several times until he was sure he had all his students with him before he led them out of the school.

Two wizards were busily tapping their wands against the stone angel and when the head of the column reached the arch a stern looking wizardess stopped them. She talked to every child that passed her and pointed her wand at them. Rüdiger couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but some children took longer than others.

Only when they got close to her did he discover what she was asking: “Were you there when the stone angel started shrieking?” but the last few students between her and him all hadn’t been.

“Yes, Professor,” he admitted nervously when it was his turn.

“And where exactly were you?”

“Just walking through.” Would she think it was his fault? He hadn’t done anything!

“And did you see or hear anything suspicious?”

He shook his head. “It was much too loud to hear anything else,” he added to show that he was making an effort to cooperate.

She pointed her wand, waved it about a little, then frowned.

“What’s that around your neck?” she demanded.

Rüdiger touched his free hand to his throat and felt around, but he couldn’t feel anything there. “Um ... what?”

The teacher’s stern lips twitched. “No, not on your robe collar. You have a chain around your neck. An amulet?”

“Oh, my Schutzengel!” Rüdiger exclaimed relieved and pulled it out. “It’s to protect me,” he explained nervously. “A gift from my parents. Because they love me and want an angel to protect me. It’s really just a symbol, but it ... well, it means they love me.”

Some of the other children started to giggle and he finally realised he was babbling and shut up blushing.

The Professor however didn’t seem to hear him. She was holding the little angel charm on her palm, pointing her wand at it and frowning as if in deep concentration.

“What is it, Patrizia?” An elderly wizard had interrupted his tapping and was coming towards them. “Have you found something.”

But just then the wizardess let go of the Schutzengel. “No, Herr Direktor, nothing,” she replied shaking her head. “Just an unusual protection amulet, interesting. Blood tied protection spells are related to blood recognition spells, but I don’t see how this could react with the old line magic of the stone angel unless it were somehow tied into the same base frequency and that makes no sense for a personal protection amulet. ... At least, ... The amulet doesn’t look new. It wasn’t a starting magic school gift, was it?”

“Oh no,” Rüdiger replied, thoroughly confused. “I’ve had it all my life. A Christening gift, I think.”

“Then it can’t have anything to do with the incident,” the Professor assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”

She waved him past and turned to Joachim who was very thoroughly questioned and had to hand over both his wand and his pocket knife for examination, but finally the unknown Professor was satisfied that they were harmless as well and returned them.

“What was she talking about?” Rüdiger asked his friend as they walked through the arch to join their waiting classmates on the other side.

“I have no idea,” Joachim admitted. “Probably some really advanced magic theory. At least that’s what it sounded like to me.”

“I think,” said Hildegard, who’d been waved after Joachim pretty quickly due to not having witnessed the incident. “She’s looking for some item whose magic could have broken the stone angel’s magic. Some very strong magics can break little spells. Like the hiding magic around the palace broke my Papa’s magical camera when we visited Vienna. But I thought the stone angel had really strong magic itself.”

On the other side everybody was speculating about the reasons for the search and there were some truly spectacular rumours going around.

“Did the angel really explode when that princess-girl went through?” Franz asked them in his awful Viennese accent.

“No, it just started shrieking and wouldn’t stop,” Rüdiger told him hoping to get rid of him. He didn’t want to retell the whole thing again.

But Franz didn’t seem to get the hint, or maybe he was making a preventive attempt to shake off the image of ‘the boy that sits next to Henriette’.

“Maybe it means she’s a fake,” he suggested excitedly. “Or that she’s unfit to rule and will do something terrible to the country. Or maybe it’s a warning that somebody’s trying to kill her!”

“Yeah, right,” sighed Sonja exasperatedly, but Margarete and Joachim exchanged some worried glances.

“She isn’t supposed to rule at all,” Joachim pointed out unexpectedly over a minute later. “Her husband will. And she isn’t even engaged yet. It’s much too early for anyone to be sure it won’t be their candidate.”

Rüdiger wasn’t so sure of that. Who knew what magic could and couldn’t predict? But then again Joachim had grown up in a magical family, so he probably did have a better idea of that than he or Sonja did.

When the whole class had been searched Professor Pospischil led them to the Seilbahn. “Those of you who are not going to Mass, remember to wait at the top until I release you.” he ordered before he waved the first group inside.

Rüdiger and his friends made it into the second cabin, this time without the princess or Henriette which left Franz the least pleasant company and Rüdiger was honest enough with himself to admit that so far he had no good reason to dislike the boy. It wasn’t fair to blame someone for speaking with an accent and Franz sat down in his seat peacefully enough and started looking at the book he was carrying in his hand, most likely because he too had been unable to fit everything into his schoolbag.

“Are your bibles as ugly as mine?” he asked once everybody had settled down and the cabin started to move. “It’s written in such odd decorative letters that I can’t read a word.”

“Mine is completely normal,” said Margarete holding out her hand. “Can I see?”

“Sure,” Franz said and handed it over.

Margarete opened the bible and held it into the middle of the cabin so everybody could stick their heads together and see.

“I think it looks impressive,” Rüdiger admitted once he got a good look at the writing. “It’s like the really old gravestones in the village cemetery at home.”

“And it’s a hardcover, too,” Joachim added encouragingly. “Probably from a time when they didn’t even make soft covers yet. It might be the oldest bible in our class.”

“So it’s old junk,” Franz complained in disgust.

Rüdiger however still thought the book was very pretty and probably full of history that he’d never know, but somehow still felt almost as if he could touch it if only he could hold the book.

“I guess it’s annoying, if you can’t read your book, but I like it and I think I’ll manage. I can read those old gravestones in any case. I’ll trade you.”

Franz agreed readily and Rüdiger handed him his unremarkable used bible then bent and gently took the old one out of Margarete’s hands. It felt warm and delicate, but of course there was no sudden rush of knowledge about its past history. It was only a book after all, but it was pleasant to own something so old and beautiful.

“Your amulet’s still hanging out,” Joachim told him. “If you meant to tuck it away again.”

Indeed the Schutzengel was still dangling outside his robe and had grown icy cold to the touch despite the warm weather. Rüdiger quickly tucked it back under his clothes where it would be warm and protected. He didn’t think that it had to be worn against the skin all the time, but it was probably safest there. Who knew, if it hung out it might catch on some twig or stick when he was working or playing and be torn off. He’d never find it again, if he lost it in the forest or among the hay and straw in the barn.

Then he sat back and examined the bible more closely. Its first owner had probably already checked its pages, so he wouldn’t have to do that as part of his homework, but should he write his name inside or would that be defacing such a beautiful book?

He checked the first page right under the cover and discovered that there was already a name there. He’d have to cross it out.

Or should he? This child had valued the bible so little that he’d forgotten it in school, but on the other hand he seemed to have taken good care of it. It was completely clean and had no bent corners and the name had been written very neatly, though the old fashioned letters were impossible to identify.

His Schutzengel was still cold against his skin, reminding him that this child, too had probably had a Papa that had loved him just as much as Rüdiger was loved by his own Papa, and now the only reminder left of them both might be this name written in letters modern students could no longer read.

Or could they?

“F...ro ns – Fend ...” No. “Ferdinand! Franz-Ferdinand u ... von ... Franz-Ferdinand von ... S? or L?“

Joachim leaned in to see the old fashioned handwriting as well and gasped.

“Lothringen,” he whispered excitedly. “Franz-Ferdinand von Lothringen. Your bible used to belong to a member of the imperial family!”

 

1\. Klasse – “1st Class”  
Klassenvorstand – The teacher organisationally in charge of a class. He deals with administrative things and anything else that isn’t part of anyone’ particular subject. (From the description I guess much like the American homeroom teacher, except that the Klassenvorstand doesn’t get a special homeroom class for this, but has to somehow fit it into the time allotted to his normal subject instead.)  
Klassenlehrer – “class-teacher” - The teacher teaching a class in (almost) all subjects in primary school.  
Volkssschule – “folk-school” – in Austria: primary school  
Fachlehrer – “subject teacher” – A teacher that teaches usually two specific subjects that he’s been trained for at the Hauptschule. These teachers are not qualified to teach at the Gymnasium as they haven’t been trained at university. They have more training in actual paedagogics and didactics than the Professors, though.  
Professor – A teacher trained at university. (Including this here even though the use is much the same in Harry Potter because it is not used for secondary school teachers in Germany.)  
Angenehm – “Pleasant” – Here: Pleased to make your acquaintance.  
Heinzelfrau – a female Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign)  
Heinzelmännchen - a magical race, usually benign  
Seilbahn – “rope-train” – Um yeah, like this one: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/12/Cablecar.zelllamsee.500pix.jpg  
Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)  
Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12)  
Schulpflicht – “school-duty” – Time of mandatory education. (Nine years in Austria, years spent in preschool and repeating a failed grade count, so theoretically one of Rüdigers’ classmates could complete it at the end of sixth grade.)  
Faulpelz – “lazy-pelt” – Laze-about.  
Sprache und Kultur – “Language and Culture“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be German’s (= first language).  
Schularbeitsfach – “Schularbeits-subject” – A subject in which there are Schularbeiten.  
Schularbeiten – plural of Schularbeit  
Schularbeit – “school-work” – an hour long written test very important for the final grade first introduced in 4th grade where you have 4 in Math and 4 in German (called Klassenarbeit in Germany), after that 6 per year in German, Math and English, plus other subjects added later depending on school form, can be two or three hours long and as few as four a year in 11th and 12th grade.  
Klassenbuch – “class-book” – Register. A book containing the alphabetical student list, home addresses, Schularbeiten schedule, list of absent students and when written excuses from their parents were received, signature of the teacher and note of the content of every lesson ... The Klassenbuch is brought into the class from the Lehrerzimmer by the first teacher in the morning and remains there until the last lesson. If the class leaves its classroom for a lesson it is carried along by a student, but the students are not supposed to look inside.  
Fräulein – Miss. (Sarcastic when not used addressing a noble girl.)  
“Hia, Professa!” – Correct German: “Hier, Herr Professor!” – “Here, Professor!”  
“Oba jo, Hea Professa,” – Correct German: “Aber ja, Herr Professor.” – “Sure, Professor,”  
Gymnasien –plural of Gymnasium  
Direktion – Headmaster’s office.  
Direktor – Headmaster  
Lehrmittelkammerl – “teaching-materials-chamber” – Storage room for teaching materials.  
Sekretariat – Secretary’s office  
Fr. – Mrs  
Lehrerzimmer – Teachers’ lounge  
Schularztzimmer – “school-doctor-room” – Examination room of the school doctor.  
Schularzt – School doctor. (I’ve never heard of an Austrian school that had a nurse.)  
Festsaal – Fest-hall  
Schulbuchaktion – “school-book-action” – Once upon a time in Austria before an election one party promised that, if they won, every student would get a new set of schoolbooks for free every year. They didn’t expect to win, but they did .... and because this happened in a mystical time when parties still felt obliged to keep promises Austrian students still get their books (though they do have to pay a small percentage of the price nowadays. Not in Rüdigers time, yet, though.)  
Schülerlade – “students’ drawer” – A place where the school keeps used school books.  
Edler – “noble one” – An actual rank of nobility when Austria still had a nobility.  
Tratschtanten – “gossip-aunts”  
Zweierreihe – two-by-two line  
Sprechstunde – “speaking hour” – Time a teacher is available in case parents want to speak with them. (Few parents actually come as it’s during their working time and students are supposed to be in class at the time, so they can’t come themselves either.)  
Schutzengel – guardian angel  
Papa – Dad


	8. Chapter 7: Of the Past and the Future

Chapter 7: Of the Past and the Future

 

September 13th 1990

Going to school again on the second day was much easier than on the first. Rüdiger hopped through the mirror happily, smiled at the unknown wizards and wizardesses at the bus station and squeezed into the bus along with the other students instead of after everybody else. He didn’t forget to wish the driver a good morning as he passed, though.

Margarete called out to him right away and with a little squeezing and pushing he managed to join the zu Dunkelbrunns again. It was good to have friends.

Well, real friends at least. They weren’t bothered by Margarete’s sort of friends on the trip today as the train from Vienna didn’t arrive while they were waiting at Großglockner station, but they did make their appearance along with the princess and Franziska not long after Hildegard arrived in the classroom.

“Today we’ll finally get down to business,” Kunigunde announced loudly while her Heinzelfrau diligently unpacked her writing utensils and laid them out on the desk for her. “Spruchkunde with my cousin Gudrun. That’ll show who’s got what it takes ... and who doesn’t.”

“Well, then I guess your days here are numbered,” Franziska informed Henriette. “Oh, how sorry I feel about it, but you know there’s nothing one can do about things like that.”

“Can I sit with you today?” Henriette asked so softly that Rüdiger probably wouldn’t have heard her, if he hadn’t been standing in front of Margarete’s desk, which was after all right behind Franziska and the princess’s.

“Sit with me? God, the ideas the child comes up with!” Franziska exclaimed theatrically. “Of course not! You have to always sit in the same seat. It’s in the seating plan now.”

“Better hurry up and get there,” Augustina recommended. “If the Kogler has to send you to your seat like the Pospischil did yesterday, she’ll probably punish you.”

“Is Kunigunde really related to our Spruchkundeprofessorin?” Rüdiger asked his friends. “Aren’t teachers forbidden to teach their relatives?”

Joachim looked up from his inspection of the contents of a brown paper bag that he’d brought with him.

“A salami roll and an apple,” he reported. “Does anyone like salami? I’ll trade it for bread and butter or another apple.”

“Sure,” Rüdiger said and returned to his own desk to give Joachim his own apple even though he’d rather have kept it. It was a very delicious looking one that Franzek had picked especially for him, but he could always pick himself another when he got home and he didn’t want Joachim to go hungry during big break. “But what about the relatives?”

“What about relatives?”

Rüdiger repeated his question.

“I don’t know, but the high nobility are almost all related somehow and since we have so many nobles in our class ...” Joachim shrugged.

“They no have enough teachers,” Maxim told them. “I ask older students. They no can avoid every class have every teacher.”

“Well, I hope that Kogler isn’t anything like her cousin,” Sonja announced just a little too loudly. The noble girls turned their heads on their group and glared at them.

“Well, we’ll see that soon,” Rüdiger replied and glared back at the princess just as angrily. “She has to be less childish than this gaggle of geese in any case. After all she’s grown up.”

“Py!” made the princess.

“Py!” made Rüdiger and bent over his schoolbag to retrieve his Spruchkunde book.

“This is all Henriette’s fault,” Franziska said to her companions angrily. “Because she’s behaving like such a baby and sticks to us like glue. We have to get rid of that child as soon as possible or everybody’s going to think we’re just like her.”

Joachim too was anything but pleased with the incident.

“We mustn’t pick a fight with the princess!” he warned Rüdiger and Sonja. “She’s the emperor’s heir. Her husband will be emperor someday and rule over all of us.”

“Her husband and not her,” Rüdiger snapped. “I’ve had just about enough of how everybody’s sucking up to that arrogant goat. She’s just as silly a goose as the rest of that gaggle. And what can she really do to me? I’m going to return to non-magical life after school. There nobody even knows that the emperor exists.”

“But she can give you a lot of trouble in school as popular as she is,” Joachim warned him.

Rüdiger didn’t want to hear it, though. He’d never had to worry about how influential the families of his classmates had been and had always chosen his friends based on how well he liked them.

Frau Professor von Kogler was a tall, thin wizardess with a hooked nose and stern eyes. She wore a grey robe with black embroidery and harsh looking metal buckles in place of buttons or zips. Her hair was wound up in a tight bun on top of her head which made her look even taller and thinner.

Rüdiger was surprised to see some streaks of grey in her hair and a few little wrinkles in her face. How was it possible that the age difference between cousins was this big?

“In future,” she said right after permitting the students to sit down. “I expect all of you to have your books and notebooks ready on your desks when I come in and do mind your posture. A proper student sits up straight, shoulders back, chest out, hands flat on top of the desk. No one hanging there the way some of you are can possibly work neatly and properly. Never forget that your handwriting mirrors your posture, and remember that your willingness to learn and your character will be judged by your handwriting. Posture and handwriting are your calling card in school as well as in later life.”

Kunigude received particular praise for her exemplary posture, the princess a stern lecture that a noble girl from a good family should never be so forward as to look an adult straight in the face. No, she was supposed to meekly cast down her eyes. Apparently that didn’t have anything to do with the sort of cast one got if one broke a bone, though. Rüdiger might not like the princess, but wishing her broken bones would have been too mean.

A boy on the other hand must never seem meek or shy and had to look people firmly in the eyes. Joachim was to mind how he held his shoulders, Rüdiger received a thorough glance up and down.

“Zweigl?” Professor von Kogler asked. “Strange. What family do you belong to?”

“Er ... none, Frau Professor,” he replied confused. She’d critiqued all the other commoners so far without asking after their origin. “A non-magical one I mean.”

Oh well, maybe it was his robe. She’d probably taught the wizard born commoners’ parents and recognised the other non-magicals by their non-magical clothes.

“Don’t say ‘er’, it sounds as if you were unsure of your answer and leaves your mouth hanging open. That looks stupid.”

Rüdiger was beginning to think that Spruchkunde was a strange name for etiquette lessons, but then the Professor finally got down to business.

“And now to our actual task, the Spruchkunde. Take out your school exercise book and write on the first page ...”

“What notebook!” Lieselotte shouted out in distress.

“Children should only talk when they are asked something and in school we lift our hand, if we want to speak! On the fist page ...”

About thirty hands flew up into the air.

Don’t stretch so over-eagerly, and don’t wave,” Professor von Kogler criticised. “A proper student merely lifts his hand and holds it still patiently until he is called on. Yes, Herr Nikolaus?”

Rüdiger only just managed to disguise his laugh as a cough.

“What notebook, Frau Professor? You haven’t told us what notebooks to buy, yet.”

“Ah yes, and remind me that we need to fill in their etiquettes next lesson,” the professor realised. “For now write on a sheet of paper and copy it into your school exercise book when you have it. You will need three A4 notebooks. The Schularbeitsheft gets a green envelope, the others both orange ones.”

Talking of notebooks apparently reminded her of Schularbeiten and she also informed them that Spruchkunde was a Schularbeitsfach and that, just like Professor Pospischil, she’d fix the dates as soon as she knew the final schedule.

“Spruchkunde,” she then dictated. “Is the science of the classification and definition of spells, in particular spoken spells. However we will also have a quick look at sung and even wordless spells to make sure that you know how to classify those ... But no, stop, that isn’t part of the definition! And you were supposed to write on lines!”

So the next thing they learned, and that once again wasn’t part of Spruchkunde, was how to erase writing by tracing it backwards with one’s wand and that magical notebooks, if one already had one, switched between blank, lined and squared, if you tapped them with your wand.

“As you can see by the definition, Spruchkunde is the most important subject you have in magic school. Nothing is more important than the knowledge and classification of spells. Everything else is just pretty additions, frills, that may be relevant to those of you who will work in the respective fields as adults, but that the rest will never have any use for. The knowledge of Spruchkunde however is the indispensable basis for them all. Only once you have mastered it can you learn anything else. Therefore it is in your own interest that in addition to doing the homework set by me you spend at least an hour every day studying Spruchkunde. If you don’t you will fail not only here, but in all subjects.”

Even though Rüdiger had no plans to specialise in any kind of magic and therefore still suspected that in his case Sprache und Kultur would still be much more important than Spruchkunde he didn’t want to fail all the other subjects.

So, one hour a day for Sprache und Kultur and a second for Spruchkunde? Well, he could manage that, if it was this important.

 

“Now we’ve got my uncle Moritz,” the princess announced the moment Professor von Kogler had left the room.

“Oh wonderful,” Rüdiger grumbled pulling out a piece of paper that he’d started to write a letter to Papa on to add a short description of Professor von Kogler. Papa was so curious about magic school that Rüdiger wished he could have been a wizard, too.

“Moritz von Lehnsbach,” Joachim explained unasked. “He’s her mother’s youngest brother and totally unimportant, except that he teaches Mentalzauber und Illusionen. I think it’s supposed to be a really difficult subject.”

“Do you think that’s true?” Rüdiger asked worriedly. What little they’d already learned in Spruchkunde had sounded terribly complicated. He’d have much preferred an easier subject after that. Or were all magical subjects difficult?

“Yes, and he’s also said to be really strict,” Margarete confirmed. “I hope we don’t always have him right after the Kogler.”

Professor von Lehnsbach arrived less than a minute after the bell. He stopped in the door for a moment, cast a quick despising glance over the entire class and snapped: “Sit down!”

“Remove all that clutter from your desks at once,” he ordered as he strode to the lectern. “We have much more important things to do and that trash will only get in the way. The only things I want to see on your desks in my lessons are your writing utensils, Das Mentalzaubern 1 and your notebook. When we need the mirrors or pendulum I will tell you so. Until then they are to remain in your schoolbags. Understood!”

They nodded obediently and Rüdiger hastily put his letter into his desk – or tried to.

“Not in there,” Professor von Lehnsbach snapped at a boy in the first row who’d been doing the same with his other books. “Other classes come in here when you aren’t here.”

“You will need two A4 notebooks, one with a green envelope, the other with a red one.”

He stopped for a moment to watch them start to write that down, but before Rüdiger had actually put penholder to paper he continued to talk.

“Mentalzauber und Illusionen isn’t a Schularbeitsfach, which misleads many students into underestimating it. A grievous error that they soon learn to regret,” As he spoke Professor von Lehnsbach opened the Klassenbuch and cast another, longer, look over the class. Most likely he was checking attendance based on the seating plan. “By then, however, it is frequently too late to catch up. If however, you stay on top from the start, spend at least an hour a day intensively studying the material and aren’t completely brainless, you ought to be able to manage positive grades at least up to third class.” He picked up his penholder to make his entry in the Klassenbuch, but kept looking at the students. “And why are you still standing around staring at me like a mooncalf?”

“I … um I … er …” Henriette was indeed standing next to her open schoolbag looking very confused, but Rüdiger wasn’t sure whether her deer-in-the- headlights expression wasn’t more the result than the cause of Professor von Lehnsbach’s question.”

“What er?” Professor von Lehnsbach demanded eyes fixed on his victim.

“I forgot what colours,” Henriette confessed meekly.

“Green and red,” the professor repeated surprising Rüdiger both by the fact that he knew what colours Henriette was referring to and by not raising his voice. “And next time raise your hand and ask.”

Rüdiger hastily bent over his notebook to write down the number and size of the required notebooks and envelopes which he too had almost forgotten over the Professor’s speech.

“And what’s that trash on your desk?”

At first Rüdiger didn’t react, but Joachim kicked his leg lightly. “He means you.”

He looked up in confusion. He’d put his letter in his schoolbag! But Professor von Lehnsbach was glaring at … Rüdiger’s ball-point pen, an item even more forbidden here than it had been in non-magical school.

“That’s a writing u…” he started to say as if he weren’t aware of any wrongdoing, looking the Professor straight in the eyes to seem as innocent as possible, but quite suddenly a wave of heat and dizziness rushed over him. He couldn't breathe, the plastic band of his wristwatch suddenly felt much too tight and the Schutzengel cold as ice against his hot skin. He couldn't move, couldn't think ...

He screamed out in panic and just as suddenly as it had come on the fit ended. His classmates were staring at him in horror, but Professor von Lehnsbach was smiling kindly.

"Excellent," he said and after a quick glance into the Klassenbuch continued. "You have a distinct talent for the mindarts, Rüdiger. With diligence and patience you could go far in this discipline, and there is no other form of magic as useful."

"But what just happened?" Rüdiger asked still shaken and confused. He wasn't at all sure whether he wanted to learn a form of magic that felt that horrible, much less specialise in it.

"Oh, just a little test," the Professor answered easily. "We are supposed to primarily learn the theory here, but what use is the best understanding of theory to you, if someday some immoral wizard invades your mind and attempts to manipulate you? Unfortunately there are people like that and always will be. Laws, interdictions and moral preaching won't help that. Only if you are able to recognise the invasion by another mind and fight it off, can you be sure that you are truly safe. Therefore from time to time we will have some practical exercises in mind manipulation."

"But you haven't even told us how to protect ourselves yet!" Kaspar shouted, and this time Rüdiger felt the boy actually had a point. "How can you examine us anyway!"

"Don't worry, Herr Kaspar," Professor von Lehnsbach said reassuringly. "There won't be a grade on this exam yet. But how do you expect me to grade your progress, if I don't know how your untrained minds react naturally? You just saw how big the differences can be. Rüdiger felt my invasion almost immediately and instinctively, though not yet very effectively, fought back. Fräulein Henriette, on the other hand, never noticed a thing."

Henriette squeaked and everybody else laughed, but Rüdiger couldn't quite relax enough to join in.

"Don't worry, Fräulein, that is completely normal. Most of you will feel nothing, or nothing definite at this point. Almost all my students have managed to learn that much eventually, though."

There was something strange about this. Grade their progress from individual starting points, rather than whether or not they achieved a set level? It sounded right, but didn't fit in with what he was used to. If you graded people based on individual progress wouldn't Mustaffa have deserved top marks in German just for the number of new German words he'd learned rather than to almost fail for not being able to conjugate verbs as correctly as his classmates from Austrian families did?

"But for now, let us return to theory. Mentalzauber and Illusions are, in praxis, completely different forms of magic. Nevertheless they are treated as one subject, because they have the same objective, namely that of manipulation. Illusion spells do this by affecting the external world and fooling the senses into perceiving something other than reality. A very simple example is to cover a door with the visual image of a wall. The door is still there, one can walk through it. It only looks as if there were a wall. A blind wizard wouldn't be fooled."

"Many so-called illusion spells do not require any actual magic at all. A clever non-magical can for example use an illusionist's mirrors for visual deceptions. This is not the case with the mindarts. By definition non-magical hypnosis does belong in this category of spells, but it is very unreliable and therefore plays a very minor role. The mindarts affect the target's mind itself. With them we can read and control people's thoughts, erase and manipulate their memories and in extreme cases take control of their bodies."

"I am sure I do not have to explain any further to make you realise the great responsibility the use of such magic entails. You must never use it lightly. Always be sure that what you are doing is morally right and necessary."

During this lecture some students had started to whisper to each other excitedly and now there were even a few giggles to be heard. Professor von Lehnsbach gave the class another disparaging look and then unexpectedly stepped out of the lectern and stood right before the loudest and giggliest group.

"Especially you, Princess," he said calmly. "Shouldn't take the mindarts too lightly. Members of the imperial family have always been the favourite targets of treacherous mind-wizards."

The class fell dead silent immediately.

"For homework read the introduction in your book and make a table in your home exercise book, that's the green notebook, where you list all the spells you find in the text. Illusion spells on the left, Mentalzauber on the right."

The bell rang at exactly the moment the Professor stopped talking.

 

Rüdiger didn't get to write down anything about his second magic lesson during the break. He was surrounded by eager classmates that wanted to know what a mental attack felt like and how he had fought it. Had anything felt more effective than something else? Did he have any ideas what else one might try?

There were children among them that Rüdiger hadn't even exchanged a single word with before.

"No, I'm quite sure I don't want to become a mind-wizard," he assured them several times. "I'm supposed to inherit my Opa's farm. The fields and cattle won't care a bit whether I can influence the minds of wizards. They'll still want to be ploughed and milked by my hands."

The thought that he'd pass a particularly difficult subject more easily because he was gifted wasn't at all unpleasant, though, and once when he happened to glance in her direction Rüdiger even thought he saw the princess watching him jealously. She turned away too quickly to be completely sure when she realised that he was looking her way, though.

Ah yes, talent was something even imperial relatives couldn't buy for one.

It was almost a relief when the bell rang to announce the third lesson even though the next Professor took his or her time to arrive.

"What do we have now?" Rüdiger asked Joachim. "And with whom?"

Joachim started to dig for his schedule, but Margarete was faster.

"Beschwören," she said. "Professor Konstanze von Hintersbach."

"A totally minor noble house," Joachim added.

"The subject ought to be interesting, though," Margarete countered. "It's about rhymed and sung spells, all completely without use of a wand. And we get to do practical exercises!"

That sounded promising. Making lines appear in a magical notebook was fun, but Rüdiger was eager to finally do some real magic.

"How is it different from Spruchkunde though?" he asked Margarete. "Didn't the von Kogler say that was about spoken magic as well?"

"Oh yes, but with the spells in Spruchkunde you still need to point your wand to direct them. In Beschwören you do it all with your voice."

That sounded difficult as well as interesting and they were all eager to try it, but they were soon disappointed. Professor von Hintersbach only just managed to tell them that they needed a special music notebook before she got distracted by the fact that she was teaching a real princess.

Then all she wanted to talk about was what life at court was like and how Anna-Theresia was adapting to having to go to school. Surely that had to be difficult if one was used to being taught by private servants.

"So what?" Sonja grumbled. "Lots of us are used to non-magical school, with fountain pens and no flying busses ..."

"It's a change for all of us," Hildegard told her. "But we're not princesses, therefore nobody cares."

"Well, I think it's fun," Lieselotte said at almost normal volume. "It's much more interesting to have so many classmates than to have private lessons with Mama."

Professor von Hintersbach didn't react. She was just telling the princess about her son Konstantin who was studying at the magical university in Vienna and appeared to be the most talented and interesting young man in the world.

Rüdiger slipped his hand into his schoolbag and felt around for his letter. Ah, there it was! He pulled it out and shoved it hastily under his Beschwören book. Professor von Hintersbach continued to chat even though the class was getting almost noisy.

Konstantin wasn't just talented, he was also unusually diligent and extraordinarily good-looking, but of course he was much too well-bred to give in to all the female students that were throwing themselves at him.

Princess Anna-Theresia was by now only replying by occasional condescending nods, but apparently that was completely satisfactory.

Thus encouraged Rüdiger took up his ball-point pen and wrote down all about Professor von Lehnsbach and Professor von Hintersbach. It was a pity that they weren't learning anything at all this lesson, though.

He missed the bell ringing to announce the start of the big break. Most likely it was drowned out by the noise in the classroom which was by now behaving almost the same as during a break anyway despite the presence of the Professor. They only found out that it actually was break when the door was abruptly torn open and the Gangaufsicht, a young Professor they hadn't met yet, came in to kick them out of the classroom.

"During big break you're supposed to be in the corridor! Don't try to pretend Professor Pospischil didn't tell you so!"

"What ..." Professor von Hintersbach started. "Oh, it's you, Anita. Is it really that late? We were talking so nicely. I completely lost track of time."

"Oh Konstanze, please forgive me, I didn't realise you were still in here. As noisy as the class was ..."

Suddenly Professor von Hintersbach was in a great hurry to get back into the Lehrerzimmer. Rüdiger packed away his letter, grabbed his salami roll and headed for the door where he almost collided with Franz who'd stopped suddenly to talk with the Gangaufsicht.

"Where is our milk?" he asked. "I'm thirsty."

The teacher shrugged and told him to ask the Milchordner.

"Who's Milchordner?" Franz asked the first classmate in sight who happened to be Joachim.

"What is a Milchordner?" Joachim returned.

"The two Milchordner fetch the Milchkistl in the morning and return it after school," Franz explained. "If only I knew where, I'd do it."

They asked some of their classmates and Margarete even went so far to address the princess' group, but nobody knew.

"Do you know who that Professor was?" the princess returned.

Margarete shrugged. "No idea, but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough when we have her."

"But I want to know now," the princess insisted. "She's my favourite teacher now. She rescued me from the von Hintersbach."

"Was it really that bad?" Margarete yelled to be heard despite the noise in the corridor.

"Oh, don't tell us you're interested in her Konstantin, Margarete," Augustina teased. "I'd have expected you to have higher ambitions ... but considering the company you're keeping I shouldn't have been surprised."

"Excuse me?" Margarete asked confused.

"She's trying to hint that you have matrimonial ambitions," Hildegard translated.

"What, already?" Margarete exclaimed. "As if I'd decide on a husband at ten. How ridiculous."

"Oh, but the decision's so important," the princess advised her. "One can't start thinking about it early enough. Surely that Konstantin is too old and of too low birth, though. If only the von Hintersbach would realise that!"

Rüdiger was just about to inform her that in his opinion Konstantin also sounded too intelligent to want to marry a silly goose like the princess when Maxim appeared beside him unexpectedly.

"There no milk yet," he reported. "We give forms to Pospischil first, he give to secretary, secretary order milk. Then get milk in Sekretariat."

The others stared at him.

"But how did you find all of that out?" Rüdiger asked him.

"I ask big students," he replied as if that were a completely obvious thing to do.

"Well, Franz," Sonja said. "Looks like you'll have to drink water from the bathroom tap."

Franz frowned at that, but in the end they all did and Rüdiger resolved to bring his hiking flask tomorrow. He could fill it with milk from their own cows or goats whichever he felt like that day. Opa and Mama certainly weren't going to pay for packed milk from the shop when he could drink their own fresh milk for free.

"What do we have now?" he asked when he returned to his seat after the break.

"Geschichte und Tradition," Joachim replied. "That's where we learn all about the imperial family."

"Oh great," Rüdiger groaned. "Another subject that's all about the princess!"

"Not necessarily," Hildegard opined. "After all she isn't very old yet. She can't have much history or tradition. We'll probably learn a lot more about her ancestors."

Right now those didn't interest Rüdiger all that much either. After all he wasn't related to them, so what were they to him? Except for the one that had once owned his bible, but he was probably from some minor side branch and not actually an ancestor of the princess at all.

 

At first glance Rüdiger thought Professor von Kogler had returned, but at a closer look the History-Professor's robe was a slightly lighter shade of grey, her hair darker and her face a little rounder.

"God with you and sit down, children," she greeted the class. "Please sit up straight as is proper for students."

She didn't walk through the whole class or correct anyone's posture, though.

"My name is Professor von Hildesheim and I will be teaching you Geschichte und Tradition," she announced. "That is a very important, no, in fact, the most important subject of all. It is all about our roots, the culture into which we all were born, or which some of you have only just entered and in which they must take root now, for themselves and their children. Our history, our origin and past, is the basis on which we build our present and our future. We must keep it stable and strong, for, if the basis grows weak, if we forget our past, our origin, then all that we have built on it will fall in on itself. To maintain our present and future we need stability, the conservation of our traditions and understanding of our past."

She regarded the class. "I know, you are much too young to see the interconnections. You have hardly any history of your own, haven't experienced any major developments or changes in your surroundings. But, even though it is a process so slow that you cannot watch it yourselves in eleven years of life, our world is nevertheless in a constant state of change. History isn't complete, it is constantly happening and we all are part of it. And this part is a huge responsibility. We must ensure, that the future we are creating stands on a solid basis and is a safe foundation for further development. For this purpose all of us – not only those who are newly joining us from non-magical families, but also those who were born into our traditions and have already been living them – must learn to know and understand our history and traditions and find our place in it."

"The heart of our history is of course the imperial family and this year we will focus primarily on it and its place in our lives," she announced. "But before we can turn our attention to that fascinating and important topic there are a few formalities to attend to. First of all we need a notebook. Your notebooks are an expression of your connection with the past and to make that visible you will fill out the etiquettes in Kurrentschrift."

"What?" Kaspar exclaimed. "But Frau Professor!"

"I know, I know, of course you don't know how to write Kurrent yet, and even if I did draw it out for you on the blackboard you still wouldn't know how to write your names in Kurrent. But never fear, there are instructions in your book, so I will tell you now what to write and you will write it down normally and copy it onto your notebook in Kurrent according to those instructions at home. On the first line you are to write 'Geschichte u' full stop, big T, small r, full stop. Then your name goes in the second line and the last one is 1 full stop 'Klasse SJ 1990/91'."

She wrote it out on the blackboard while she dictated it so that even the slower students had no cause to panic.

"Done?" she asked after waiting for about a minute.

"No!" Henriette squeaked. "Not quite!"

"We will use an A5 notebook with a yellow see-through envelope," Professor von Hildesheim continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And once you've written that down, start thinking about why we have an emperor. What might be the advantages? Why don't we have a president or chancellor like the non-magicals? Why not a ministry within the non-magical government, as they do in some other countries? And perhaps one of you even knows why we have an emperor and not a king?"

Rüdiger thought and realised that he didn't know anything. In the Volkssschule he hadn't learned anything about emperors, kings, presidents, chancellors or ministers. There sometimes were kings in children's TV, but they were foolish cartoon characters or hand puppets that were only meant to entertain children ... and sometimes they were wise and kind. Maybe emperors were smarter than presidents? But why would they be?

Presidents, Opa had told him, were elected every four years. Every party nominated a candidate and then every adult in the country voted for a party. Opa had said that that ensured that only someone that was fit for the office became president. Emperors and kings inherited their office. Whenever one died his oldest son took his place. But how did one ensure that the son was fit?

He looked around a little helplessly and realised that several students had already raised their hands. Hopefully that meant that the von Hildesheim wouldn't notice that Rüdiger didn't know anything.

The Professor took a short look at the raised hands and then called on Ottokar.

"We have an emperor, because the non-magicals used to have one, too," he replied.

"If we look at it superficially, yes, Herr Ottokar," Professor von Hildesheim confirmed. "But please stand up when you're answering a question. We can allow it as the answer to the question why we have an emperor and not a king. Austria was once an empire and back then both we wizards and the non-magicals had emperors. But why two different emperors and not one shared one? And why don't the non-magicals have one anymore, but we do?"

Rüdiger threw up his hand. Finally a question that he could answer!

"Yes, Rüdiger?"

All of a sudden Rüdiger didn't feel all that confident of his answer anymore. He actually only knew part of the answer. But he stood up anyway, just as Professor von Hildesheim had told Ottokar to do and hoped that she'd be satisfied with what he had to offer.

"We ... That is, the non-magicals lost a war and the winners forbade us the nobility and that's why the non-magicals can't have an emperor anymore. Er ... the second world war, it was called."

"The first," Professor von Hildesheim corrected. "But perfectly correct in the essential: The non-magicals no longer have an emperor, because they aren't allowed. Very good, Rüdiger. You may sit down again."

Relieved Rüdiger sank back into his chair.

“So we have determined why we have an emperor and not a king and why the non-magicals don’t have an emperor anymore, but why do we have our own separate government and why is an empire or monarchy the best form of government? ... Fabian?”

“An emperor or king is bound to his country for life and passes it on to his son after his death. That’s why he’ll always take care that his decisions won’t be bad for the country in the long run. A president gets elected for a short time and only makes decisions that are good for the moment without caring about the future.”

“Correct,” Professor von Hildesheim confirmed. “The emperor has a bigger interest in the long term well-being of his country. He also has time to pursue a stable policy, because he isn’t replaced by somebody that undoes his decisions every few years.”

“An emperor or king is intended for his office from birth,” a boy named Heinz contributed. “He can start to prepare himself for it as a child and learn everything he needs to be the best ruler possible. An elected ... er ... ruler doesn’t know in advance and can only start preparing after he’s been elected.”

“Oh, he does know before the election that he is a candidate for the office, but it’s true that he doesn’t know from birth and hardly ever has the chance to learn from his predecessor, while an emperor can pass all his knowledge on to his son. And what current problem does that bring to our attention?”

Nobody volunteered.

“Well, who’s the heir of our current emperor?” Professor von Hildsheim asked.

“Me!” called the princess delightedly.

“No!” the professor said sharply. “And no shouting out. If you have something to say, raise your hand. When the emperor dies, will you rule magical Austria?”

“No,” the princes admitted meekly. “A girl can’t rule. My husband will.”

“And who’ll be your husband?”

“I don’t know. I’m only ten, I can’t marry yet.”

“Then how can he prepare for his role now?” For a moment the question hung in the room, then Professor von Hildesheim continued without answering it. “That is the reason why the throne should only ever be passed on through the male line. The highest duty of an emperor is to provide a male heir. That ours could not is an unprecedented catastrophe.”

“But isn’t it better to pass the throne on in the female line, than if there’s no heir at all?” Augustina asked after a short uncomfortable silence.

Just then the bell rang, but when some students started to get up Professor von Hildesheim called out sternly. “Stop! It’s still me that ends the lesson and not the bell! And no, it is not better. It would be much better, if, in such a situation, the emperor were to declare some boy of another house the heir and have him trained properly. Inheritance through the female line is utter nonsense.”

“Not a fan of the princess after all,” Hildegard noted during the break which they spent eating the rest of their Jause next to the dustbin.

“But did you notice that she almost always called on boys only?” Margarete complained.

“Why, that’s because girls know nothing of politics and ruling,” Joachim replied. “Surely that’ll change once she starts on lineages and traditions. What’s next?”

Hildegard went to her desk to check her schedule. “Stabkunde,” she shouted across the classroom. “Professor von Labstein.”

They all looked expectantly at Margarete and Joachim, but they both only looked clueless.

“In Stabkunde you learn about wands and how they’re made and used,” Margarete finally offered. “That must be very interesting.”

“Don’t you know anything about that von Labstein?” Rüdiger asked.

“No,” Margarete admitted, because Joachim only shook his head. “I’ve never heard of her or her family. It must be a really tiny house. Or maybe a very new one.”

“Lets just hope this doesn’t turn out to be like Spruchkunde,” Hildegard said grimly. “If she goes crazy at the sight of the princess, too, we’ll never learn any proper magic.”

But they appeared to be in luck. Professor von Labstein turned out to be the Gangaufsicht that had rescued the princess earlier.

She acted decidedly friendly towards Anna-Theresia, but didn’t try to question her about court life or tell her tales of any eligible young wizards, but stuck to her topic.

“I expect top performance from all my students,“ she declared right at the beginning of the lesson. “My colleagues may allow you to laze about, but not with me, you hear! Anyone who doesn’t perform for me, will be failed without mercy. I don’t accept any ridiculous excuses like illness or lack of talent. If you are too sick to keep up, it’ll do you good to repeat the grade next year and if you aren’t talented enough, you’re in the wrong school.”

She waited a moment to see the effect her words had on the class. The princess’ ‘court’ had finally stopped giggling and was looking at her just as wide-eyed as the rest of the class.

“One hour of spare time a day is the absolute minimum of sacrifice required to pass in my subject. I don’t care who your parents are or how much influence they have. I expect performance! Whoever is unwilling to bring that, had better pack up now and switch to non-magical school. Magic is only for the best.”

Another short pause.

“Nobody? Very well, then let’s get started.”

But the first thing she did was only to write onto the blackboard what notebooks they would need.

Then she finally started to actually teach: “The wand is the most important tool of a wizard. It bundles and directs his magic. As you all know, it consists of two basic parts: the hull and the conductive core. The materials used depend on the wizard. Other variable characteristics are thickness, length and shape as well as the magic used in their making.”

Was that why they’d had to try so many wands when they’d bought theirs? Rüdiger wondered whether he really had chosen the correct thickness and length. He hadn’t even realised how important they were.

“In Stabkunde we will learn about all these characteristics and their variations as well as how they interact,” Professor von Labstein promised. “We will start with the hull. It is usually determined by the wizard’s date of birth unless his basic magicology wave has been altered by an major magicologic interference. Open your books to page five and have a look at the table there. It shows what date goes with what wand wood – at least here in Austria, other countries have different traditions and vegetations, but we won’t bother with that this year. For homework you are to copy the table into your notebook and learn it by heart. There will be a test on it on Tuesday.”

A test? Would they have to write the table by heart like a Gedächtnisübung in primary school? Rüdiger looked down at his ink-blackened fingers and the black smudges in his notebook desperately, which he hadn’t had time to erase. What if he wouldn’t get around to it during the test either? What would Professor von Labstein say, if he handed the test in in that condition?

“Frau Professor!” Sigrid raised her hand. “What if we don’t have Stabkunde on Tuesday?” They didn’t know next week’s schedule yet, after all.

“Then,” Professor von Labstein said calmly. “It is postponed to the first day after that that we do have it.”

Then she dictated a list of possible shapes and functionalities of wand hulls.

 

They had to go home without Margarete’s cousins to guide them this time.

“They have six lessons today,” Margarete explained. “But it’s no problem. I know which bus to take.”

In fact, she even knew which part of the rough grey wall of the huge Großglockner station to tap to get the schedule for their line.

“Oh,” she said then. “We only just missed one. The next goes in 40 minutes.”

Rüdiger looked around. The station was as dark and uninviting as ever.

“Do you know the way to the non-magical part? Maybe we can see the marmots,” he suggested.

Margarete looked around uncertainly. “It might be in there,” she said doubtfully pointing at an open door at the other end of the station where a group of adult wizards had just emerged. “Let’s have a look.”

They crossed the station and walked through the door expecting to find a corridor or stairs leading outside, but found themselves in a small room full of newspapers and writing utensils. On the left side there was a counter behind which an old wizard was refilling stacks of cigar-boxes. Beside the register stood a display of pipes and a hand written poster announced ‘no tickets sold here’.

“It’s only a Trafik,” Margarete concluded disappointedly, but Rüdiger didn’t share that feeling.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the shelf to their right. “School supplies. We can buy our notebooks and save the trip to Libro.” He’d been a little worried about that as he couldn’t go to the city everyday and they had Sprache und Kultur again tomorrow – while he still didn’t know what notebooks he’d need for the other subjects they hadn’t had yet.”

“Libro has more variety, though,” Margarete said. “And it’s practically next to the bus stop at home.”

Rüdiger looked at the stacks of notebooks and envelopes again. There was less space than at Libro, but the items seemed to be the same. “They have all the colours and notebook sizes. What more variety do we need?”

“Libro has scented ink and colour changing paper and foil paper and sticking paper ...” Margarete started.

Rüdiger blinked at her. “Er ... Margarete, we were told to buy notebooks and envelopes, not various art supplies. And they’re right here.”

He took out the notebook he’d been using in his lessons to look up what items he needed.

It informed him that he needed five mittelquart notebooks for Sprache und Kultur.

“What is a mittelquart anyway?” he asked Margarete.

He knew that A5 was the name for the notebooks he’d used in primary school and A4 was probably something similar.

“The paper size of the middle sized notebooks,” the wizard behind the counter answered startling the children who hadn’t realised that he was aware of their presence. “The small A5 ones used to be called kleinquart and the A4 ones großquart. So the middle size was mittelquart. Then they renamed the other two.”

“Thank you,” Rüdiger nodded, though this sounded strange and counted out five middle sized notebooks.

After a moment’s hesitation Margarete did the same.

The plastic envelopes were a little more difficult. Rüdiger had to pull out a few and hold them against the notebooks before he figured out where to find the right size for the mittelquart notebooks.

“One yellow, one red,” he commented out loud, taking two of each and putting one on each of their stacks of notebooks. “One green, blue and ... white?”

“If they didn’t say opaque white, they mean the colourless ones,” the wizard helped him out again.

“Thank you,” Rüdiger said again while Margarete pulled out the envelopes. “That’s Sprache und Kultur sorted then.”

“Three A4 notebooks for Spruchkunde,” he read out next. “That’s the big ones. We need one green and two orange envelopes for them.”

“There aren’t any orange ones,” Margarete reported handing him three notebooks and a green envelope.

“Nonsense,” the wizard scoffed. “They just don’t make them see-through. Look further to the left where the opaque ones are.”

At first it seemed that there still weren’t any, but then Rüdiger realised that there seemed to be three stacks of brown ones. He lifted a few of them and found that the orange and white stacks had been covered by misplaced brown envelopes.

“We don’t need any of those, do we?” Margarete asked.

“Some older students bought some yesterday,” the wizard commented. “They must have made this mess.”

“Two A4 notebooks for Mentalzaubern, one red, one green,” Rüdiger continued.

These Margarete found easily enough, but the A5 music notebook with opaque purple envelope for Beschwören stumped even the sales wizard.

“They don’t make opaque envelopes for music notebooks,” he insisted. “Nor are there see-through purple envelopes at all. Will that wizardess never learn!”

“So what do we do?” Margarete asked. “Should we just buy the notebooks and leave them naked?”

But the old wizard grinned suddenly. “I have a better idea,” he said and pulled a sheet of purple wrapping paper out from under the counter. He folded it in half, tapped his wand against a pair of scissors which rose into the air and cut the paper neatly along the fold. “Here, wrap your notebooks in this,” he advised handing one half to each of the children. “And put a colourless envelope over it to keep it clean.”

“Brilliant!” Margarete exclaimed delightedly and the wizard came out from behind his counter to show them where to find tag stickers to write their subject, names and class on the paper wrapped notebooks.

“One A5, yellow,” and “One mittelquart, blue.” were easily found and they returned to their bus stop very pleased with their purchases.

“So,” Rüdiger asked Margarete. “Do you still wish we’d gone to Libro instead?”

“Oh no,” Margarete admitted happily. “This place is much better. I bet we’ll have the coolest Beschwören notebooks in the whole school.”

 

Heinzelfrau – a female Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign)  
Spruchkunde – “Spelllore“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be the “first foreign language” (usually English).  
Spruchkundeprofessorin – female Spruchkunde professor  
Herr – Mister, Lord  
Frau Professor – “Mrs Professor” address for a teacher at a Gymnasium  
Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12)  
Sprache und Kultur – “Language and Culture“  
Papa – Dad  
Mentalzauber und Illusionen - “Mind Magic and Illusions“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Biology.  
Das Mentalzaubern 1 – “Mind Magic 1” Fifth grade schoolbook for Mentalzauber und Illusionen.  
Klassenbuch – “class-book” – Register. A book containing the alphabetical student list, home addresses, Schularbeiten schedule, list of absent students and when written excuses from their parents were received, signature of the teacher and note of the content of every lesson ... The Klassenbuch is brought into the class from the Lehrerzimmer by the first teacher in the morning and remains there until the last lesson. If the class leaves its classroom for a lesson it is carried along by a student, but the students are not supposed to look inside.  
Schularbeitsfach – “Schularbeits-subject” – A subject in which there are Schularbeiten.  
Schularbeiten – plural of Schularbeit  
Schularbeit – “school-work” – an hour long written test very important for the final grade first introduced in 4th grade where you have 4 in Math and 4 in German (called Klassenarbeit in Germany), after that 6 per year in German, Math and English, plus other subjects added later depending on school form, can be two or three hours long and as few as four a year in 11th and 12th grade.  
Schutzengel – guardian angel  
Fräulein – Miss. (Sarcastic when not used addressing a noble girl.)  
Mentalzauber – mind magic, mind spell  
Opa – Grandpa  
Beschwören - “Enchanting“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Music.  
Mama – Mum  
Gangaufsicht – “corridor supervision” teacher on duty to patrol a corridor during break  
Lehrerzimmer – Teachers’ lounge  
Milchordner – “milk-sorter” students in charge of the school milk (usually two)  
Milchkistl – “milk-boxy” a plastic box in which the school milk for one class is transported  
Sekretariat – Secretary’s office  
Geschichte und Tradition- “History and Tradition“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be History.  
Kurrent/Kurrentschrift – old handwriting  
Volkssschule – “folk-school” – in Austria: primary school  
Jause – snack/tea/school lunch (A small meal in between the three big ones, not actually in place of lunch.) or packed lunch  
Stabkunde - “Wand-lore“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Geography.  
Gedächtnisübung – “memory-exercise” a form of test in primary school: a short text to be learned and written by heart  
Trafik – Austrian tobacco shop


	9. Chapter 8: A Relaxing Day

Chapter 8: A Relaxing Day

 

September 14th 1990

 

“They’re totally insane,” Margarete informed Joachim and Sonja when they joined her and Rüdiger the next morning.

“Who is?” Joachim asked.

“The princess and her gaggle,” Rüdiger explained. “Didn’t you see them? They’re sitting in the wardrobe and giggling for no reason.”

“They’re looking for noble boys and discussing which ones to marry,” Margarete amended. “Even I know that that’s unseemly.”

“Oh, is it?” Sonja asked. “Just wait until the Kogler sees them then.”

That was an amusing thought, but ...

“Won’t see,” Maxim told them. “professors no use student wardrobe.”

“How do you know?” Sonja demanded a little annoyed.

“Big students say,” Maxim explained. “They hide cigarettes in Patschensackerl.”

“It doesn’t smell like smoke, though,” Rüdiger remarked.

“No smoke in wardrobe, Heinzelmännchen smell,” Maxim elaborated. “Smoke in ski shed.”

“Do you smoke?” Joachim asked him. “Or why do you know all that.”

Maxim made a disgusted face. “I try one, but no like. They say it taste good, but I no see taste. Only make me cough.”

“Opa says cigarettes taste awful,” Rüdiger agreed. “Pipe’s much better.”

“Oh, maybe the wizard at the Trafik would let us try one!” Margarete exclaimed excitedly.

“But we mustn’t!” Joachim told her. “We’re too young!”

“No may,” Maxim informed Margarete. “Is against law, if he know smoke for you. But you say it for Papa, he sell you.”

“We can’t buy a pipe just to try it out once,” Rüdiger said. “That’s too expensive. And tobacco on its own is no use.”

Joachim seemed relieved.

“Well, anyway,” Margarete continued shrugging off the idea. “We discovered this cool Trafik at the Großglockner.”

Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of Anselm and Nikolaus.

“Good morning, everybody!” Anselm greeted them in a much more friendly tone than Rüdiger remembered hearing from any of the noble boys before. “Do you know what’s got into the girls?”

“No why?” said Rüdiger and looked around at the girls in the classroom. “They’re all behaving normally as far as I can see.” He cast another glance at Henriette who was begging Nikolaus to sit next to her. “Well, at least as normally as usual.”

“Sorry, I’ve already got a neighbour,” Nikolaus told her. “Why don’t you go find the other girls?” He pointed at the door.

Henriette hung her head and actually headed in that direction.

“Phew, we’re rid of her,” Nikolaus told Anselm. “She’s almost worse than Kunigunde.”

“Why, what has Kunigunde done?” Joachim asked.

Nikolaus looked at Joachim uncertainly. So far the other noble boys had always ignored him.

“She just tried to propose to Nikolaus,” Anselm whispered casting a nervous glance at the door. “But she was giggling so much that she didn’t get the words out.”

They all laughed and Joachim almost beamed with happiness, but then Kaspar and Ottokar arrived.

“What are you doing with those idiots?” Kaspar shouted at his friends. “Are you turning into filthy traitors as well?”

“Nonsense,” Anselm assured him hastily. “We were just ... just going to ... to ask Rüdiger what happened with the stone angel.”

Strange, that hadn’t seemed to interest them at all when it had actually happened.

“Yes,” Nikolaus added. “It’s all over the news. They’re sure that someone tried to alter the magic somehow.”

“Oh, but I really didn’t notice anything,” Rüdiger admitted. “I didn’t even know there was any magic in it until it started shrieking.”

“Ha!,” laughed Kaspar. “What did you expect of a common Bauerntrottel! Why do you bother with them? Come on.”

Anselm and Nikolaus nodded hastily and joined Kaspar and Ottokar at their desk.

“I bet I know what happened anyway,” they heard Kaspar tell them. “It was the assassins, of course. They tried to tie some killing spell to the recognition magic and murder the princess. Probably the von Raifburgs bungled it again.”

Joachim flinched.

“What a bunch of idiots,” Rüdiger said to reassure him. “Well, I don’t want to make friends with them anyway.”

Kaspar’s words reminded him of the other children’s remarks when Professor Pospischil had read out Joachim’s name. Joachim had promised to explain later, but was this a good moment to ask him?

“I guess, I shouldn’t have talked with them,” Joachim agreed.

“But before Kaspar came they were perfectly nice,” Margarete said. “I really thought they wanted to make friends.” And a little more loudly: “I think farmers are just as smart as other people and my Papa said that the stone angel’s magic’s probably just worn out.”

“They afraid of Kaspar,” Maxim stated calmly. “Ottokar too.”

This theory surprised Rüdiger so much that he once again forgot his question to Joachim. Even though he couldn’t imagine what made Maxim think that Ottokar might be afraid of Kaspar, the behaviour of the other two had indeed looked suspiciously nervous.

“But they are best friends,” he said finally. “How can one be close friends with someone one is afraid of?”

“Are afraid of what Kaspar say, if not friends,” Maxim explained. “But I think Kaspar afraid, too. Kaspar only talk, afraid of do.”

 

The strange behaviour of the gaggle continued all through Sprache und Kultur. They were whispering and giggling so much that Professor Pospischil had to ask them whether they had school milk forms to hand in twice, but the princess’ laughter seemed somehow strange. Rüdiger wondered whether she was getting annoyed by all the nonsense as well.

After the milk forms the professor collected their ‘optional’ donations for the magical red cross, handed out the bus tickets and then they plunged right into the declination of German nouns, which was quite confusing as some of them still knew them as Namenwörter, others as Hauptwörter or Substantive and only a very few recognised the term Nomen.

“Really children!” Professor Pospischil scoffed. “The words we always capitalise. The ones that have articles and genders. Yes, those. As you ought to already know they also have something called casus, case. There are four cases: Nominativ, Genitiv, Dativ and Akkusativ.”

“And I always use wrong one,” Maxim muttered unhappily.

But at least Maxim seemed to recognise the words. Rüdiger’s primary school teacher had only ever called them 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th case leaving him completely confused with all the –tivs now.

Luckily Professor Pospischil only complained about primary schools not teaching all the necessary basics a little when he discovered this problem in several of his students and wrote the numbers and Latin words on the blackboard for them to see, while Franz who had learned the Latin terms, but kept using Dativ when he should use Akkusativ, was once again threatened with failing, which did nothing to cheer up Maxim.

“At least we have Turnen now,” Margarete announced when poor Maxim collapsed on his desk groaning the moment the professor had left the classroom.

“But it says LÜ on the schedule!” Henriette shouted.

Everybody laughed.

“LÜ is Turnen, you idiot,” Franz informed her. “It stands for Leibesübungen.”

“Come on, pack up!” Hildegard urged them. “We have to go to the Turnsaal.”

At first Rüdiger didn’t understand. In primary school the professor had led them to the Turnsaal and how were they even supposed to find it? But then he remembered that Professor Pospischil had said there was one at the end of each corridor.

“Which Turnsaal are we in?” he asked while they hastily stuffed their Sprache und Kultur things into their too small schoolbags.

“Number one,” Hildegard reported. “That’s in the other corridor, I think.”

“No, it’s this one,” Joachim said. “I’m sure.”

“Turn right!” someone shouted as the whole class rushed out the door pushing and shoving. “And then the second corridor on the left, I think.”

“Nonsense,” someone else roared back. “There isn’t even a corridor on the left.”

“What if we get lost?” shrilled Henriette. “Franziska, wait for meeeee!”

Rüdiger ignored the noise and simply followed the students in front of him. Somebody somewhere ahead seemed to know where they were going.

But the corridor looked unpromising. There were several closed doors ahead some of which didn’t even have plaques and the door at the end looked like that of a normal classroom.

“Are you sure that’s it?” Heinz asked.

“I think so,” Fabian replied. “Maybe we ran past it?”

“No,” Maxim suddenly appeared next to Rüdiger. “That Brausaal. Is only corner, Turnsaal at end.”

“How ...” Joachim started.

“You asked the older students?” Rüdiger guessed.

“No, I walk and look in break,” Maxim replied with a grin.

Indeed there was a corner and the corridor continued to the right, further into the mountain. There were a few more unused classrooms, a stairway with a chain across it to show them that it was closed and then the corridor ended at a closed double door. The plaque next to it said “Turnsaal 1”, but when they tried to open it, it turned out to be locked.

“What now?” Margarete asked. “Should we try the other Turnsaal?”

“No, it says one and all our books and the schedule say one, too,” cried Henriette. “We must get in there.”

“What nonsense!” Franziska groaned. “I can’t take this baby anymore!"

“It says one there for 1st class,” Augustina lectured Henriette. “And here it says one for 1st room. They have nothing to do with each other.”

“We have to wait for my Papa,” Nikolaus explained. “He has the key.”

Rüdiger looked down the corridor, but there was nobody in sight.

“Dooon’t!” a shrill shriek came from behind him. “Leave my hair alone!”

Rüdiger shot around and saw that Augustina had snatched Henriette’s hair clip and was holding it high over her head. Henriette was hopping up and down in front of her trying to reach it, but as she was so much shorter than Augustina and couldn’t jump very well with her schoolbag in her hand she was just hopping around uselessly. Her braid was swinging about happily dissolving a little more with every jump.

“Franziiiiska, heelp meeeee!” she shouted, but Franziska only laughed harder. Henriette really did look funny.

“You have to jump higher!” someone shouted. “Come on!”

And indeed Henriette let go of her schoolbag and jumped with so much force that she almost pushed Augustina over. She clung to Augustina’s arm and tried to pull it down, but just then Kunigunde shouted: “Ha, now I’ve got your things! Catch me, if you can!” and ran down the corridor carrying Henriette’s schoolbag.

“Nooooo!” Henriette cried. “I need that!” And she ran after Kunigunde.

The scene was so funny, that they only noticed the wizard that came down the stairs when Kunigunde, who was looking back over her shoulder at Henriete, ran into him just as he was slipping under the chain. Kunigunde fell and spilled the contents of Henriette’s schoolbag all over the floor.

“Running in the corridors is forbidden,” the wizard snapped at Henriette while he pulled Kunigunde back onto her feet. “This isn’t a playground.”

“But Kunigunde started it,” Henriette defended herself.

“Nobody forced you to join in,” snapped the wizard and walked past her to the door. “Pick up that trash.” He pulled a key out of a pocket in his sports robes and unlocked the door. “Come on in.”

 

By the time Henriette had packed all her possessions back into her schoolbag the corridor was empty and silent and the double doors once again closed. Unsure what else to do she took another look around for her hair clip, but it was nowhere in sight. And she’d lost her class as well.

They were somewhere behind that door having Turnen, which was the best subject of all. Her Papa had told her so, and Papa had to know. Papa knew absolutely everything.

Of course, Mama had said that it wasn’t exactly the most seemly favourite subject for a young Lady, but when Papa had asked her sternly whether she was honestly denying that she’d liked Turnen as a girl, even she had admitted that it had been her clear favourite when she’d been Franziska's age.

“There you see,” Papa had said. “Only complete losers don’t love Turnen.”

No, Henriette couldn’t possibly miss her first ever Turnen lesson. She just had to get in there and re-join her class. A little hesitantly she walked up to the door, then cast another look around. There was nobody here to see her do anything she might not be supposed to.

She put her hand on the handle and very cautiously pushed down. It gave way and ... the door opened!

Henriette peeked around it into a room full of unfamiliar equipment made of wood, metal and leather. At first there was nobody inside, but when she slipped in and quietly pulled the door closed behind her she heard voices and steps and then some boys appeared on the steps leading down to the left of the door. They ignored her and she wasn’t sure who they were, but thought that they looked familiar, so she cautiously followed them through another door which led her into a large room with strange lines in various colours on the ground and iron bars over its oil lamps.

Amazed Henriette stopped and turned around once to take in the strange wooden ladders and other strange things mounted on the walls. The lower end of one wall seemed to be padded with rectangular blue mats that were hung up by leather loops attached to their corners, while several ropes hanging from the top of the wall to the right were bundled against that same wall with an iron chain.

“What are you doing in here in street clothes!” The scary professor from earlier snapped at her. She’d seen Nikolaus’ father before, but he’d never seemed this frightening. “And your schoolbag has no business in here either. Leave it in the changing room.”

He shooed her towards the door and so Henriette fled back outside against the stream of students coming upstairs and into the big room now. The changing room had to be down there, she assumed. But what if it wasn’t? What if there was a place down there where students weren’t supposed to go and she walked right into it?

She hesitated at the top of the stairs and caught sight of her cousin coming up with her friends.

“Franziska!” she shouted relieved. “I’m supposed to go to the changing room and I don’t know where it is. Help me!”

“Duh, it’s down there, you idiot,” someone snapped behind her and shoved her onto the stairs.

She stumbled down a step or two, but caught hold of the hand-rail before she fell. Clinging to it she hurried further down past one last group of stragglers and ended up in another now empty corridor with three closed doors to choose from.

There were no plaques or any other signs to give her a clue, nor could she hear any sounds from any of them. She’d have to look inside to find out what they were. But what if one was occupied? What if she interrupted another class’ lesson?

She walked down the corridor looking and listening at each door and finally, very shyly knocked on the last one.

Nobody answered and after a few very fast, nervous heartbeats, she opened the door and peeked in. There was nobody there, only a row of ugly old showers without shower curtains or partitions and lots of cracked dirty looking tiles.

Henriette wrinkled her nose in disgust and closed the door again.

She had better luck on her second try and ended up in a cold room almost as big as a classroom whose only furnishings were a row of benches all around the walls and a row of metal hooks above them. On two sides these were covered with hastily flung off children’s robes, some hanging on the hooks, others in heaps on the benches with schoolbags next to them or standing on the floor beside their owners’ Patschen.

Assuming that this was the right place Henriette put her schoolbag on the bench on the opposite side of the door from the mess her classmates had left behind. Actually, it wasn’t that bad not to have to undress in front of everybody else, she decided as she hastily pulled her sports robes out of her Turnsackerl and put them on.

The floor felt hard and cold under her bare feet on the way back upstairs, but her parents had said that one wasn’t supposed to wear shoes in the Turnsaal and the other children had been barefoot as well when they’d come up here.

The door to the big room was closed now, but this time she was almost completely sure that she belonged in there. She opened it as quietly as she could and slipped inside.

“Lieselotte!” Nikolaus called just as she entered and Henriette saw Lieselotte leave a small group on the side of the room and join the larger one that surrounded Nikolaus.

Recognising Franziska there as well, Henriette ran over to do the same.

“Franziska!” she called out relieved to be with the others again. “Franziska, what’s happening?”

“Not you!” Nikolaus yelled at her. “I didn’t pick you!”

“Yeah, we don’t want her!” the princess shouted at Professor von Amselfeld.

“We picking teams for Völkerball,” the tall immigrant boy whose name she didn’t know yet explained. “You go stand in row for be picked.”

“Just come stand over here and wait until you’re called,” Professor von Amselfeld said pointing at the same place as the immigrant boy.

Henriette had no idea what they meant by picking, calling or even Völkerball, but went obediently. Franz was in the small group that they’d called a row so she stood next to him.

“That’s the wrong place!” he said. “This is a Stirnreihe. I’m much taller than you.”

“Never mind that now,” the professor told them. “Your turn, Kaspar.”

“I don’t even know what all those dummen Ziegen are called,” Kaspar complained quite unfairly as he had to know Henriette’s name.

“Sonja!” Margarete shouted at him. “Pick Sonja!”

Kaspar looked at her, shrugged and called: “Sonja, whoever that is!”

One of the girls in the group that was supposed to be a Stirnreihe ran over to Kaspar and Margarete’s group where she was excitedly welcomed by Margarete and Hildegard, but frowned at by Kunigunde and Augustina.

“You there in blue,” Nikolaus called out. “What’s your name?”

“Sigrid!” the girl answered and ran over.

Henriette began to hope that Nikolaus would pick her. She’d rather not be too near Augustina and Kunigunde right now and besides, Franziska was in Nikolaus’ group.

Kaspar and his group whispered for a moment and then he called out “Jasmin”.

“Sabine!” went Nikolaus.

“Ivonne!”

Then there was a short pause as Nikolaus considered the remaining options. Besides herself and Franz, Henriette realised, only the von Raifburg boy and the two Muslims were left.

“Nadja,” Nikolaus decided.

“Franz,” said Kaspar with a frown.

“Fadime!”

And so it was only her and the von Raifburg boy left. Surely now ...

“I don’t want either of those two,” Kaspar announced. “Nikolaus can have them.”

“We can’t do that,” the professor said. “Then Nikolaus’ team would have three more players than yours. You have to choose one of them.”

“But I don’t like them!”

“Then I want Joachim!” shouted Nikolaus. “And Kaspar can take Henriette.”

“You choose that filthy traitor?” Kaspar exclaimed.

“Yeah well,” Nikolaus said clearly embarrassed. “We each have to take one of them and I bet he’s the better player.”

“But I’d rather be on Nikolaus’ team!” Henriette pleaded.

“Well,” Kaspar decided. “I don’t want a filthy traitor on my team, anyway. He’ll probably betray you. Fine, I’ll take the cry-baby.”

Several people in Kaspar’s group groaned while the von Raifburg boy was welcomed by his friend Rüdiger and the immigrant boy and ignored by everybody else. It hurt, but maybe things would have been different, if only she’d ended up in Franziska’s group, and now they were going to do something fun. Except that she had no idea what it was.

Since she was still trying to avoid Augustina and Kunigunde and Margarete appeared to be deep in conversation with Hildegard and Sonja, Henriette decided to turn to Franz for help.

“Um ... so we’re going to play Folk-ball?” she asked him.

“Völkerball,” Franz corrected as if everybody had to know what that was.

“Um, how does one play that?” Henriette continued anyway. She had to know, if she wanted to play well and prove that she was worth having in the group after all.

“Haven’t you ever played it before?” Franz asked scandalised. “Not even in the Volksschule?”

“I was home schooled,” she had to admit, but then it turned out that several other wizardborn children didn’t know anymore than she did.

“There are two playing fields,” Sonja explained. “We’ll probably use the blue lines. Each team gets one field and all the players must stay in there until they’re shot off.”

“Shot!” Henriette yelped.

“That means hit by the ball,” Franz clarified. “But only, if you don’t catch it.”

“Right,” Sonja continued. “The players that are shot off leave the playing field and go to the Freigeistfeld. That’s either the area behind the other team’s playing field or behind and at the sides. They have to try to shoot themselves free by shooting someone else off. When they do that, they can get back in. You win by emptying the other team’s playing field.”

“The best way’s to throw the ball back and forth between the playing field and the Freigeistfeld over the heads of the other team so they can't reach it and have to run from one side to the other all the time and get tired,” Franz advised. “And when you shoot someone off you must hit him as hard as you can, so he can’t catch the ball and nobody else can either, if you miss.”

“When you hit someone the other side usually grabs the ball before it can roll back into your field,” Sonja added. “So be ready to run.”

The shrill sound of the professor’s whistle prevented any further advice, but most likely Henriette wouldn’t have been able to remember anything more anyway.

Professor von Amselfeld assigned the playing fields and asked the teams who their first Freigeister should be. Franz volunteered for their team and ran off into the Freigeistfeld without any further explanation.

After a moment of confusion Henriette decided to ignore this. The role hadn't been assigned to her and Franz probably knew why he'd left without being shot off.

"Why is the ball red?" someone from the other group called out. "Völkerball's supposed to be played with a volleyball!"

The scary professor smiled. "Oh, but this is a volleyball. It's just red to show that it's charmed to announce whenever somebody gets shot off. That makes sure there is no mistake whether someone has been hit or not."

"Brilliant!" Sonja exclaimed in delight.

Then the professor threw the ball into the air over Kaspar's and Nikolaus' heads and Nikolaus caught it.

Henriette's teammates ran for the far end of their playing field screaming at the top of their lungs as Nikolaus hurled the ball across to his volunteer Freigeist.

Henriette wanted to cover her ears against the noise, but reminded herself in time that she needed her hands free to catch the ball. Why weren't her team-mates trying? Here they came again shrieking and running away from the Freigeist who had pulled back his throwing arm and was taking aim. This was her chance to show everybody what she was worth!

Ducking and pushing against the tide of oncoming children Henriette ran towards the ball. She had to get it!

The enemy Freigeist saw her coming, smiled and threw. The ball was coming right at her. much faster than any her Heinzelfrau had ever thrown at her. But she'd catch it, Henriette knew. It was sailing right at her after all. No need to jump or stretch for it.

She held out her arms for it and ... Bang! It slammed into her like the door her Mama had once accidentally opened right into her face. Henriette cried out in pain and started to cry. Her hands and shoulder seemed to be on fire - or at least this was what she imagined being on fire would feel like.

Somewhere through her shock and tears she heard the ball happily announce "Got you!" and the enemy team cheer, but she didn't care.

"You idiot!" Kaspar yelled at her. "Why the hell did you run right at it?"

"I knew we should have taken Joachim," she heard Ottokar say in a more resigned tone.

"At least she's no big loss." That had to be Margarete.

Henriette sobbed harder. When was the professor going to come check on her and make the hurt go away?

"No big loss?" Kaspar exclaimed. "She has to replace Franz now. How are we supposed to play with that as our only Freigeist?"

"Oh, stop crying!" That was the professor's voice. "It's not the end of the world. You just have to go over to the Freigeistfeld now and try to shoot yourself back in."

"But it hurts," Henriette sobbed.

The professor came over to look at her. "I don't see any blood. Don't be such a wuss," he decided. "The Freigeistfeld is over there. If you don't know what a Freigeist does, just catch the balls thrown at you and throw them back to your team and watch the others. You'll soon get the hang of it."

"Of course it hurts," Sonja added a little more kindly. "It has to, or else it'd be too easy to catch the ball. Didn't you realise that?"

"Come on!" Kaspar shouted. "Get on with it. She knows how to play. We already told her."

"Yes," agreed Kunigunde. "Enough with the crocodile tears. We want to play!"

Henriette tried to fight down her tears, but didn't manage completely and trudged off to the Freigeistfeld still sobbing. She fully intended to perform her duty there well and ran forward to catch the ball every time one of her teammates was about to throw it, but everytime she flinched away when she actually saw it coming towards her and it hit the wall, bounced off and rolled into the enemy field.

The enemy team laughed at her and taunted while her own side scolded and shouted orders to at least catch the ball until Joachim shot off Augustina and Kaspar ordered her not to try to shoot herself back in while she was alone with Henriette.

From then on Henriette was simply ignored. It was equally relief and disappointment. At least she didn't have to risk being hurt anymore, but she also hadn't proven herself worth having on the team.

She stood in a corner which seemed the safest and quietest spot in the whole Turnsaal and hoped that everybody else would forget she was there. It seemed to be working. All the other children were so busy shrieking and running and catching and throwing the ball that nobody had any time to spare for a tiny little girl that wasn't actually playing.

None of the other children seemed to mind when they were hit. They all just cursed or groaned or argued and then did their best to shoot themselves back in. Whenever someone stepped out of their field or attacked someone with anything other than the ball Professor von Amselfeld would blow his shrill whistle and order the ball surrendered to the other group, but he never seemed to mind with how much force the ball was thrown or what insults were yelled across the room.

In the end Nikolaus' team triumphed and they ran back down to the wardrobe singing and shouting about their superiority and the inferiority of the losing team. Kaspar's team followed grumbling about it being all Henriette's fault and that in effect they'd had two players less and Henriette slunk after them wishing she could once again use the wardrobe alone when everybody else had already left and didn't have to listen to them and apologise when they told her there was no apology for not having been willing to make any effort at all.

"It's not like it's at all hard to play Völkerball," Kunigunde informed her when she tried to explain that she had tried. "If you really had tried, you could have done it. You just stood around and let our ball roll away."

"It hurt too much," Henriette tried to explain.

"Well guess what, everybody got hit and it didn't hurt them, did it?"

 

"You play well," Maxim told Joachim as they left the Turnsaal and started to walk back to their classroom. "Next time they know."

"I'm still a von Raifburg," Joachim said with a shrug. "They won't want to have anything to do with me."

"At least Nikolaus picked you over Henriette," Rüdiger tried to console him. "And Kaspar regretted not doing so."

"Well, I do hope I won't ever be left over after her," Joachim retorted. "But I don't think anyone'll ever pick me over Franz. He was good."

"I would choose you first of all," Rüdiger assured him.

"I definitely pick you before Franz," Maxim agreed. "He call me Tschusch."

"Maxim! Hey Maxim, wait!" Fabian and Dieter caught up with them at a run, Fabian waving a sheet of paper in the air.

"It says we have Darstellende Magie in the Zeichensaal," he explained. "Where is that?"

"Zeichensaal?" Rüdiger repeated surprised. "I don't remember the Pospischil mentioning that. Do you?"

Maxim frowned, shook his head, then looked around, but the only people around were their own classmates. The Brausaal's door was closed and silent. What should they do?

"Come, we find," Maxim decided. "It not this corridor and upstairs no classrooms so must be other corridor. Where other Turnsaal."

They didn't actually have to check every door on the other corridor, though. Once they came around the corner they soon saw some other students and Maxim simply walked up to the first one, an almost adult looking girl in an orange robe, and asked: "Excuse me, where Zeichensaal?"

The girl smiled kindly and pointed back in the direction she had come from. "Just keep walking straight ahead, past the stairs. It's right at the corner at the other end of the school."

"Thank you," said Maxim and led them onward. "See, it easy. Just ask big students."

Rüdiger's first impression when they entered the Zeichensaal was that it was dark and grey, though at a closer look the later proved to be not quite true. When you actually looked at them you could still determine that the lower part of the walls had once been painted green like their classroom while the rest had probably been white. Since then, however they had been speckled with little dots in every colour which combined to give them their overall dirty brownish-grey look. The linoleum floor too was green with some white lines in it and the desks ... Well, unlike the ones in their classroom these were horizontal. Their shape seemed very crude, just a sort of box with a straight wooden leg in each corner and a partition to divide it into two very dirty looking compartments.

"Is that actually wood, or is it cardboard?" Sonja asked eyeing the greyish desktop suspiciously.

"I think it's magically covered with some kind of protective ... cardboard type thing, to protect the wood from paint," Margarete theorised after a quick inspection. "Because you always get things dirty when you work with paint, you know."

"Oh, is Darstellende Magie like Zeichnen then?" asked Sonja.

"I guess so," Margarete replied. "It's where you make pictures and sculptures and such."

"That's nice," Rüdiger said. "First Turnen and now two hours of Zeichnen and we get to go home an hour early today. What a nice and relaxing day."

Their relaxation was soon interrupted by the arrival of the noble boys, though. First Kaspar was complaining loudly that it would have been much more efficient to have had Turnen in the other Turnsaal, because it was closer to the Zeichensaal and then Ottokar almost went into hysterics, because he couldn't find his money bag which had been in his robe pocket before Turnen.

"I bet the foreigner took it," Kaspar accused. "Everybody knows that all Jugos are thieves."

"I no thief!" Maxim protested furiously.

"And he's a Pole, anyway," Franz added as if that might make any difference to Kaspar.

"Or maybe it was the little Viennese Prolo," the noble boy continued promptly. "Most likely his family are all unemployed thieves anyway."

"I bet I get more than Rüdiger does!" Franz yelled back. "Maybe we're not as rich as you are, but we've got more than some pathetic mountain farmer."

"Why you!" Rüdiger fumed. He'd been making an effort to be nice to Franz and now this?

Margarete and Joachim held him back before he could throw himself at Franz, though.

"Why yes, maybe it was the stupid farmboy," Kaspar went on happily.

"And maybe it was this guy, or maybe it was that guy," Joachim told him. "If you keep going on, you'll accuse everybody in class in turn. Since you've already accused three different people, I assume you didn't see anyone take the money, so you don't know who did it any more than I do. Less actually, because I know where Rüdiger and Maxim were the whole time since we went into the Turnsaal. They came with me and left with me and neither was ever alone in the wardrobe. I was there with them and so were lots of others. Someone must have noticed them if they'd taken that moneybag."

"Henriette was alone in there," said Sigrid suddenly, but nobody paid her any attention. Everybody's eyes were on Joachim and Kaspar.

"Well, maybe it was you, traitor," Kaspar challenged.

Joachim's face flushed with anger, but he didn't shout. "Rüdiger and Maxim can confirm that it wasn't. They were with me, just as I was with them."

"Why, maybe it was all three of you!"

"That's ridiculous and you know it, Kaspar," said Anselm gently. "Let it go."

Kaspar glared at him. "You'd turn on me?"

"No," said Anselm. "But you're getting carried away. I don't like them either, but they have an alibi."

"But then who doesn't?" Kaspar insisted. "Someone must have done it with everybody else there and I don't trust the word of a stinking traitor."

"Henriette doesn't!" yelled Sigrid. "It was Henriette!"

"I say it was Joachim!" insisted Kaspar.

"Joachim's got no reason to steal," said Anselm. "His family's rich. I say Maxim or Franz."

The noise level in the classroom became almost unbearable: The accused shouted denial, the accusers further accusations and Ottokar sobbed over his loss until nobody was able to make out what anybody else was saying anymore.

Then a door slammed and sudden startled silence fell.

"What is going on here?" demanded the adult wizard who stood right beside the now closed classroom door.

Everybody started to explain at once, fingers were pointed, denials shouted ...

"Silence!" the professor yelled. "You," he pointed at Ottokar. "Why are you crying?"

Ottokar sobbed out his tale - without accusing anybody, Rüdiger noted with relief.

"It was him!" Kaspar shouted pointing at Joachim.

"It was not!" Rüdiger protested along with several others.

"Silence!" the professor shouted again then turned to Kaspar. "So, you say it was him," he pointed at Joachim as well, but not in an accusing manner. "Did you see him do it?"

"No, but I bet it was him. He's a stinking, lying traitor."

The professor sighed. "Did anybody else see this boy steel, that boy's money?"

"No," Kaspar admitted. "But he said it wasn't them." He pointed at Rüdiger and Maxim.

The professor glanced at them, but turned to Joachim. "So what do you have to say about this."

"Just that Rüdiger, Maxim and I were together the whole time. I'd have seen, if they'd done it, they'd have seen if I had."

The professor looked at them again.

"They're his friends," Kaspar accused. "They'd lie for him."

The professor sighed. "Why me? ... Very well. You all came here straight from Turnen? You weren't in your classroom in between?"

They all shook their heads to confirm this.

"Then," the professor announced. "Clearly the culprit must have the money on him. Turn out your pockets."

Joachim blushed again, but did, turning up a bit of string, his wand, two cough drops and a paper handkerchief that looked like it had been used to wipe up spilled ink.

"Well," commented the professor. "I think we can all see that there is no money bag in this boy's pockets. Now, turn over your schoolbag."

Joachim did. Schoolbooks, notebooks, penholders and inkbottles clattered out, some of the latter rolling off the desk and cluttering to the floor. One of them broke and a puddle of green ink began to spread on the floor.

"Ups," said the professor and with a wave of his wand conjured a cleaning rag that began to wipe it up.

He then held out his hands for Joachim's schoolbag, searched it for any still closed compartments or stuck objects. There were two coins in a small side compartment, but no money bag. The professor held these out for Ottokar to see, who shook his head.

"I had a lot more than that," he said still sobbing. "And it was in a bag ... sob ... and I never said ... sob ... it was Joachim."

After checking his Turnsackerl as well the professor therefore declared Joachim officially innocent and turned to Rüdiger. "Your turn. Turn out your pockets."

Those unfortunately did contain one of the moneybags Rüdiger had gotten at the wizarding bank in Salzburg.

"Aha!" Kaspar exclaimed. "I knew it."

The professor calmly held out his hand.

"That's mine," Rüdiger explained as he handed the bag over. "To buy school supplies at the Traffik at Großglockner station on the way home."

The professor poured out the money and started to count it, but was interrupted by Ottokar.

"No, ... sob ... my moneybag's red with a flying horse stitched on it. It's a ... sob ...pegasus ... sob ... from Greece."

This time the professor merely asked for the schoolbag and carefully took out Rüdiger's inkbottles before he turned it over. There was of course no money in it and soon Rüdiger too was formally cleared before the professor moved on to Maxim who had no money on him at all and Franz whose money was all non-magical.

One by one every student had to turn out his or her pockets and allow the professor to spill the contents of their schoolbag out for all to see. Everybody laughed at Henriette's stuffed unicorn and animated doll as well as a little booklet found in Fabian's schoolbag that Rüdiger at first mistook for a comic book, but that turned out to be a magical youth magazine containing stories about Indianer shaman apprentices and magical duels between early American settlers.

"I just bought it to have something to read on the bus, honest!" Fabian assured them. "I'd never read such junk in school!"

The professor smiled and handed it back as if it were no different from all the other items he'd found in his students' bags. Apparently he didn't care what they were carrying around as long as it wasn't a red moneybag decorated with a pegasus.

The only one who made a fuss about being searched was Kaspar who apparently thought that since he had accused so many others he had to be assumed innocent. To his chagrin the professor didn't agree and his possessions were spilled out and searched just like everybody else’s.

"Oh are those the magi-aid band aids with little the pink dancing hearts?" Margarete observed. "My Heinzelfrau used to have those when I was a baby."

Joachim laughed. "How girly!"

Kaspar flushed bright red. "They're for my little sister. Mama asked me to get them."

Magarete burst out laughing. "Kaspar, you don't have a sister!"

"Cousin," Kaspar amended.

Once again the professor moved on without comment. The Gangaufsicht stuck her head into the room when it remained closed during the big break.

"Why Martin," she asked. "What's going on."

"We're investigating a theft," the professor explained and then added to the students. "You may eat, though. But nobody leaves the room without showing me the content of his pockets first."

So Rüdiger got out his apple and started to eat while he watched. Franz's Turnsackerl contained a spare pair of socks and Jasmin carried an extra notebook to draw in, the first item the professor actually showed an interest in. From where he sat Rüdiger couldn't see the actual drawings, but apparently there were at least two angels whose wings Jasmin had put a lot of effort into, but still not gotten to look quite the way she'd wanted them.

"They're well done," the professor assured her. "Just keep practising ... and maybe try a pattern wand on them for the feathers. Yes, we should definitely do something with pattern wands this year."

But then he went back to business. Even the princess was searched, but all her school things were neat and the only foreign item found among them was her own moneybag - golden and frilly with pearls and a star pattern stitched onto it.

"Well," the professor announced finally. "That leaves only one last hope." He turned to Ottokar. "Your turn."

Ottokar stared.

"Come on, empty your pockets," the Professor insisted. "Maybe you overlooked one in your hurry."

But of course, the moneybag wasn't there.

Nor had Ottokar put it in his schoolbag or Turnsackerl instead of his pocket.

"Then," the professor announced gravely. "I'm afraid it will be impossible to find the culprit. There are too many people in this school. Anyone could have snuck into the wardrobe while you were in the Turnsaal."

"So what do I do?" sobbed Ottokar.

"Report the theft to your head of class," the professor advised him. "There's little hope that you'll get your money back, though. Now, sit down everybody, and get out your notebooks, because there's a long list of art equipment you'll need in this class."

Once they had written down everything from glow-paint to colour-changing ink and quill sizes the professor led them into a small storage room attached to the classroom where each of them got an old, paint-stained cardboard box and a strip of paper that they were to turn into a pretty label for their box.

"But make sure your name and class are clearly readable," the professor admonished them. "As you can see," he pointed at the shelves with rows of boxes lining the walls. "Every student in the school has his art equipment box stored in this room. It would take even longer than searching all your schoolbags did to find the right one, if they weren't labelled."

 

"Only one more lesson today," Margarete announced when they returned to their classroom afterwards. "Formen und Wandeln with Professor von Hartig."

"That sounds like more artwork," Sonja commented.

"What was that last guy's name anyway?" Franz interrupted ignoring the girl.

"Oh, that was Professor Martin von der Alp," replied Margarete. "But my cousins say you can forget him anyway. Theoretically he's a Brewing teacher, but he was so bad at it that they only give him Darstellende Magie and Schöpferische Magie and such. All those useless excuses for subjects nobody cares about."

"It's not at all like drawing," Lieselotte meanwhile informed Sonja. "It's a really serious subject. You have to calculate a lot to figure out how to magically shape or alter an object and if you miscalculate just a little it all turns out wrong. I heard a lot of people fail in Formen und Wandeln."

"It's our third Schularbeitsfach," Joachim added. "Hugely important, if you want to study Mindarts someday, Rüdiger."

"But I don't want to study at all," Rüdiger assured him. "I'm going to be a farmer."

"And breed flying bulls," Margarete added excitedly. "And I'll come visit you all the time to help break them in. It'll be so much fun!"

Before Rüdiger could even try to explain that he only planned to keep the same common non-magical farm animals that they had now, Professor von Hartig entered.

He was a balding, grey-haired wizard, who looked ordinary enough that Rüdiger wouldn't have given him a second glance, if he'd passed him on the street, not at all like a scary professor that failed students all the time. At second glance, there seemed to be something cold and distant about him that made Rüdiger wonder whether he could have any loving children or grandchildren. No, he decided, he couldn't imagine this wizard hugging or even smiling at a child.

"Formen und Wandeln," he informed them. "Is the most important subject of all. It is the key to understanding magic itself and therefore the basis of all magical science. Without it, you cannot hope to get through university - and a Gymnasium education is useless without university. You are taught nothing here that is of any practical use in a profession, so you will need further education after the Magica. Yes, even the girls among you. A wizardess today needs a profession if she wants to avoid becoming merely a neurotic housewife."

The girls from magical families stared at him wide eyed.

"And don't you tell me it's too difficult," he continued. "I remember when I was a boy students used to leave the Gymnasium for the non-magical's HAK at 15, because it was easier. Now those who do come back before the end of the year, because the HAK is so much more difficult than the Gymnasium. And I tell you, it isn't the HAK that has changed. The Gymnasium barely has the level of a bad Hauptschule anymore. It is practically a special-ed school, so don't you tell me you're finding it too hard."

"Formen und Wandeln is a Schularbeitsfach," he continued. "So we require a Schularbeitsheft."

The rest of the speech was by now familiar to them, if not in the exact wording then in its contents: The most important subject of all required daily studying for at least an hour in addition to doing homework and anyone who didn't put in that minimum effort would surely fail.

Rüdiger wondered how Mustaffa and Michi back at home in the Hauptschule coped with such requirements. After all, the Hauptschule in the town was generally considered a good one by the people of the village and therefore couldn't be any easier than the magical Gymnasium. He hoped that Mustaffa wouldn't have to transfer to a special-ed school because of his problems with German grammar. There wasn't one in the town so it was probably too far to travel there everyday.

And what would become of Maxim here where there was no easier magic school to transfer to? Surely the Pospischil would see that he was doing his best and let him pass, right? He glanced over his shoulder at his foreign friend. So far he'd seemed to cope with the German instructions just fine, so hopefully he'd be alright in the subjects that didn't require correct German grammar.

 

 

Patschensackerl – Bag containing a student’s house-shoes when not in use.  
Heinzelmännchen - a magical race, usually benign  
Trafik – Austrian tobacco shop  
Bauerntrottel – "farmers-idiot" – hillbilly  
Sprache und Kultur – “Language and Culture“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be German’s (= first language).  
Leibesübungen – "body-exercises" – The official Austrian name for PE.  
Turnen – Sports. What people actually call PE.  
Turnsaal – Gym.  
Papa – Dad.  
Mama – Mum.  
Patschen – house shoes  
Turnsackerl – Bag containing a student’s sports clothes when not in use.  
Völkerball – "peoples-ball" - A ballgame played in Austrian primary schools. Very popular with the popular kids.  
Stirnreihe – "forehead-row" – A line of people formed according to size: tallest to shortest or shortest to tallest  
dumme Ziege – stupid goat  
dumme Ziegen – stupid goats (dummen Ziegen is one of Professor Pospischil's –tivs from earlier: Akkusativ)  
Volkssschule – “folk-school” – in Austria: primary school  
Freigeistfeld – "free-ghost-field" – The field you go to when you're shot off in Völkerball.  
Freigeister – plural of Freigeist  
Freigeist – "free-ghost" – the players in the Freigeistfeld in Völkerball.  
Heinzelfrau – a female Heinzelmännchen (a magical race, usually benign)  
Tschusch – Viennese slang: Turk  
Darstellende Magie – "performing magic" I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Art (as in drawing, painting and sculpting; Music and acting are not included).  
Zeichensaal – "drawing-hall" – Art classroom.  
Zeichnen – "drawing" – What people actually call the subject Art in Austria. (It's official name is Bildnerische Erziehung.)  
Jugos – slang: Jugoslavians  
Prolo – slang: proletarian, Someone lower-class and vulgar. ... I guess you could translate it as white trash.  
Indianer – American Indian(s)  
Gangaufsicht – “corridor supervision” teacher on duty to patrol a corridor during break  
Formen und Wandeln –"Shaping and Altering" I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Mathematics.  
Schularbeitsfach – “Schularbeits-subject” – A subject in which there are Schularbeiten.  
Schularbeiten – plural of Schularbeit  
Schularbeit – “school-work” – an hour long written test very important for the final grade first introduced in 4th grade where you have 4 in Math and 4 in German (called Klassenarbeit in Germany), after that 6 per year in German, Math and English, plus other subjects added later depending on school form, can be two or three hours long and as few as four a year in 11th and 12th grade.  
Gymnasium – (grammar school) the form of secondary school for those aiming for higher education, has certain grade requirements to get in (grades 5-12)  
HAK or Handelsakademie – "trade academy" – A school form that focuses on economy. Students graduate with a diploma that allows them to either get an economics related job right away or go on to university. (grades 9 – 13)  
Hauptschule – “main-school” – (high school) the form of secondary school open to everybody (grades 5-8)  
Schularbeitsheft – "Schularbeits-notebook" – The notebook Schularbeiten are written into.


	10. Chapter 9: Joachim's Secret

Chapter 9: Joachim's Secret

 

September 15th 1990

 

Going to school on Saturday was new to Rüdiger and a few others whose Volksschulen had participated in various school experiments that managed to get around it, but all in all it didn't seem so bad. There were only four lessons to get through and the first one was Religion.

That meant that Maxim, Hildegard and the other students without confession as well as the Muslims and Protestants would have only three hours of school and didn't arrive with the others in the morning.

"Oh well," Margarete commented looking at the empty seat beside her. "I still have Sonja to talk with."

"It's a lesson," Joachim pointed out to her. "We'll have to pay attention anyway and Hildegard has to be here by the second lesson."

"It's Religion," Franz corrected him. "Nobody pays attention in Religion."

Rüdiger demonstratively turned away from the group and pretended to be busy searching for his Religion book and bible in his schoolbag. He was not talking to Franz anymore.

"But then how will we know anything for the exams?" Joachim asked.

"There are no exams in Religion," Franz explained. "And no tests either. They say getting a bad grade might turn people against Religion, you see, and so the church recommends that all students who show up for the lessons automatically get 1s. We only have to sit through it twice a week."

"Can they do that?" Joachim asked. "Doesn't the curriculum require some sort of exam?"

Franz shrugged. "I don't know what the curriculum requires," he admitted. "But I do know that the church and not the government makes the curriculum for Religion, so I guess, since they don't want it, they probably didn't put an exam in it."

Rüdiger was careful to keep his back turned to Franz at all times as he put his things on his desk for the lesson, especially the bible that he'd traded with the Viennese boy. He couldn't help wondering about the things he heard, though. When he'd started the Volksschule Religion had seemed very interesting, full of tales of miracles and the kind God, but later on it had become a lot of tiresome preaching, never as boring as Sunday mass, but always full of moral dos and don'ts.

If there really wasn't any test or exam, and Rüdiger couldn't remember ever having had one, then maybe he could use the time to write another letter to Papa. Or would Papa disapprove?

Now that he thought about it he realised that he didn't know what Papa thought about Religion. It was very important to Mama and Opa that he went to church every Sunday and behaved well while there and Papa always went with them when he was visiting, but giving Rüdiger his Schutzengel was the only other thing Papa had ever said or done that seemed religious - and he had said himself that it was a symbol of his love for Rüdiger and not of his faith.

In the end he resolved to at least not let the professor notice that he wasn't paying attention. He managed to look attentive just fine in church, so it should work here as well.

When the Religion professor entered, though, he found it was very difficult not to laugh. The wizard was dressed just like Friar Tuck and had the bulk to match. If his head had been shorn like that of a medieval friar as well, the picture would have been complete.

Sonja didn't manage to stifle her giggle in time, but luckily the professor didn't pay it any attention. Maybe he'd seen that she'd been talking with Lieselotte before they'd all jumped up to greet him and assumed that she was still laughing at a joke.

"Good morning, children," he greeted them. "Do sit down."

They did and his eyes darted from one empty seat to the next.

"Oh no," he decided. "This won't do. You two," He pointed at Franz and Henriette. "Move forward one row."

Right in front of them was an empty desk where Fadime and Nadja usually sat.

"And you," The girl that sat on Franz's other side was missing as well, leaving her neighbour alone at their desk. "Can sit next to that girl there," he gestured towards Margarete.

For a moment the two girls stared at each other, then Margarete shrugged and the other girl started to gather up her things.

"You," the professor continued to Dieter. "Move over here."

Dieter groaned. It was Nikolaus' seat right between Anselm and Kaspar who promptly started to protest that this was unfair and he refused to sit next to a commoner. 'Friar Tuck' looked startled and quoted something Jesus had said about humility and being kind to others.

That didn't seem to impress Kaspar, but Anselm forestalled another protest, by sliding over into Nikolaus' chair himself and offering his own to Dieter. The professor smiled proudly, called Anselm a good Christian and then told Heinz and Günter to sit at Dieter's and Fabian's desk.

Rüdiger smiled at Heinz when the boy sat down beside him. They hadn't talked much, yet, but he seemed nice enough. Margarete's temporary neighbour slipped into her seat with a shy: "Hi, I'm Ivonne." which started a whispered conversation that the professor ignored.

Now the last row had been cleared completely.

"There, that's much better," Friar Tuck announced. "Now I won't have to shout so much for you to hear me."

He announced what notebook they would need, but unlike most of the other teachers he did not explain how they would be graded or warn them about the need to study outside of lessons. Instead he went straight on to what they would do in class.

"We are in the lucky position that this subject is no different for us than it is in non-magical schools," he explained. "If you look at your Religion book, it has been written for non-magical school and is used there as well. After the first few lessons we will follow the same curriculum as your non-magical peers, but first, there is one thing, that the curriculum doesn't address and that I believe we, as catholic wizards must talk about."

He paused, visibly uncomfortable.

"I mean the topic of Christianity and magic," he announced. "I'm not sure whether you've heard of the bible quote saying you 'shall not suffer a witch to live'?"

Rüdiger looked at him blankly, then around at his equally dumbfounded classmates. He'd heard a lot of bible quotes in church, in Religion lessons and from various adults, but this one wasn't just unfamiliar, it didn't fit in with any of the others at all. It simply didn't sound like the bible.

"Ah, I see you have not. It is not very widely known in this day and age. At least not in this country. There are still some witch-hunting fanatics around, though, especially over in America, so be very careful to hide your magic, if you ever travel there."

"But we aren't witches!" the princess exclaimed. "We are wizards and wizardesses!"

"Indeed," the professor confirmed. "But most non-magicals do not know the difference and for example in English the same word is usually used for wizardesses and witches. We cannot blame the non-magicals, of course. Most of them are raised to believe that magic is entirely fictional, so where should they learn to tell the difference? As good Christians we must not blame them for their ignorance."

"However, we should be sure that we understand it and know what the bible actually means. Because, while not everything the bible says is to be understood as literal truth, we, who have been given the gift of magic by the kind God, need to understand His will concerning the use of that magic."

"And there you already have it, as well. Wizards and wizardesses have their gift from God, entrusted to them so they can use it for good. Witches are women who gain their magic by serving the devil and for the purpose of spreading evil into the world. And while, as good Christians, we of course must not kill, it is our duty as wizards to prevent witches from working their evil as best we can, and our first and uppermost duty never to use God's gift for evil ourselves. As Christians we must always remember to ask ourselves whether we are truly using our magic for good, as God wants us to do, or whether we are about to allow the devil to tempt us into using it for evil, or our own selfish pleasure. Magic is not there for our enjoyment, or to make our lives easier, it is a gift and a mission from God, a sacred duty, that, like all duties, is a great responsibility and heavy burden to bear. This we must understand before we can move on to the more general duties that apply to all Christians and not only us wizards."

It was strange to think that some Christians believed it their sacred duty to kill people Rüdiger knew, but at least it concerned only the girls. As a wizard, Rüdiger thought, he had nothing to fear and he soon grew bored with the topic.

The Professor didn't object when he picked up his bible and started to look through it. The old letters looked so much prettier than the modern ones he was more used to seeing, even if they were harder to read and the thought that this book had once been owned and most likely read by a long dead prince still fascinated him.

Maybe long ago Franz-Ferdinand had sat in this very classroom feeling just as bored by a very similar lecture from a long dead Professor and done just the same thing Rüdiger was doing now. Most likely he'd sat in the front row, just like the princess was doing now, with noble-born friends beside him. Perhaps one of them had been an ancestor of Joachim or Margarete?

Rüdiger stared at the backs of Anna-Theresia and her gaggle and tried to imagine a group of boys in their place. Had their robes looked like the ones the magical children of today were wearing, or had wizard fashions changed as much as the ones of the non-magicals back at home? Opa hadn't even known what a t-shirt was when he'd been a boy. He'd worn shirts with buttons and strange old-fashioned trousers.

Would Franz-Ferdinand have been nice to him, if Rüdiger had lived back then? Or had he been an arrogant ass-hole like Kaspar and the princess?

Most likely he had been, Rüdiger thought, contemplating the noble boys who were sticking their heads together and whispering ignoring Dieter.

Joachim slipped him a piece of paper on which he'd drawn an extra fat stick figure holding a cross instead of a wand and a huge speech bubble saying "blah-blah-blah-blah ..." and they grinned at each other.

Then again maybe Franz-Ferdinand had been nice to everybody, or curious about non-magical life, like Joachim and Margarete, and they would have been great friends. He'd have invited the prince to their farm and showed him the village and all the farm animals, and then in turn Franz-Ferdinand would have invited him to his parents' palace ...

The ringing of the bell rudely tore Rüdiger out of his daydreams just in time to jump up along with everybody else as the Religion professor left the classroom. Had he said anything about homework?

Apparently their non-catholic classmates had already been waiting outside. They rushed in as soon as the Professor had left and the students from the last row hastily gathered up their things to make room for the usual occupants of their seats.

Hildegard shot Ivonne an angry look, but the girl was already gone by the time she reached her desk.

"What was she doing here?" she demanded.

"The Professor made her sit here," Margarete explained. "Said he didn't want to have to shout to be heard in the back row."

"Yes, he look like his voice so weak," Maxim said with a laugh.

"He looks just like Friar Tuck, doesn't he?" Rüdiger said joining in.

"Oh yes, exactly!" Sonja agreed and dissolved into a giggling fit.

"Who's Friar Tuck?" Joachim asked them.

"The monk in Robin Hood," Rüdiger explained. "You know, on TV."

But in fact, Joachim didn't know what TV was.

"I think he looks like a Bergmönch," said Hildegard with a slight shudder and all the children from magical families in hearing distance fell abruptly silent.

"A mountain monk?" Franz asked confused.

"Not a real monk," Rüdiger explained. "Bergmönche are a myth. Some kind of ghost that looks like a monk and will attack you and beat you up on lonely mountain paths in the night."

"They're not ghosts, you common-born idiot!" Franziska snapped. "They're a kind of Perchten, as everybody who has any brains knows. They collect and guard huge treasures, and if you impress them enough, they give you some as a reward."

"That's really rare, though," Kunigunde added. "Because they're not teaching Perchtisch in school anymore, so hardly anyone still speaks it."

"Perchtisch?" Rüdiger asked despite his dislike of the gaggle. "Do Perchten have their own language, then?"

Kunigunde nodded importantly. "Back when there still were a lot more students and only one form of the Gymnasium, in fifth class you'd choose whether you wanted to learn Perchtisch or Heinzel as your third foreign language and there'd be at least one class that had each, but now there just aren't enough students anymore and they got rid of the Perchtisch professor when they hired the Schnick."

"The Schnick?" Rüdiger repeated.

"He teach Heinzel, older students say," Maxim explained. "We not have, yet."

"You don't think that Professor really is a Bergmönch, do you?" Henriette asked nervously.

"Of course not," the princess told her haughtily. "Why really, only a child like you could come up with an idea like that. As if my uncle the Emperor would ever allow a Bergmönch to teach here, and while I, his only heir, am attending!"

"But you'd better be very careful not to go out after dark anyway," Augustina recommended. "Or the Nachtkrapp might come and get you!"

Nachtkrapp? Like the nachtkrappfeather wands they'd tried in the shop? Joachim's grandfather had had one, the saleswizard had said.

"Yes, you know they carry off little children who're out in the dark," Kunigunde added.

"Ha, that's not even true," Henriette shouted at her. "I know it's just an old Heinzelfrauen's tale to scare babies. And I also know that there aren't any free-flying Nachtkrappen outside of their preserves. You can't scare me!"

"Oh, but there is one now," Augustina crowed. "It was in the Magiprint, my Mama said. Right after the latest news about the stone angel failure. A Nachtkrapp's tracing spell failed and they don't know where he is. He might have left the preserve."

"News about the stone angel?" the princess interrupted excitedly. "What news?"

Augustina shrugged. "Oh, I don't know that. I didn't even see Papa's Magipress and Mama only told me about the Nachtkrapp."

"Ha, you don't know anything, silly goose!" Kaspar shouted from the other end of the classroom. "There's a whole team of professors from the university in Vienna investigating the stone angel together with the imperial guard and it's been deactivated until the end of the investigation."

"I heard that they're even thinking about involving international experts," added Ottokar.

But before he could explain which ones or why Professor Pospischil arrived for their Sprache und Kultur lesson.

"Just a few administrative things first," he told them and then finally handed out their public transport cards. "You can see which traffic unions they are for by the acronyms printed on the right under your picture," he explained. "If it says -B after the acronym that means the card is for flying buses as well as trains in that area, if it doesn't it's trains only and you have to buy a ticket whenever you take a bus of that traffic union."

Rüdiger regarded the little cardboard card. It had his name, a painted miniature of his face and two acronyms, both with the -B, so there was no need to worry about bus tickets. He wondered when they'd painted him, though.

"I'm also still missing milk forms," the Pospischil continued and called on every student that hadn't handed one in, yet, in turn.

"I'm not ordering school milk," Rüdiger explained when it was his turn.

"Oh, wasn't Ottokar's money enough to afford it?" Kaspar challenged.

"I didn't take Ottokar's money!" Rüdiger shouted back at him. "And we could afford it just fine if we wanted to." Though, Mama had declined it mostly because it was a waste of money. "But we have milk from our own cows on the farm. My Opa says the school milk can't possibly be as fresh and healthy."

"But do your cows produce cocoa or banana milk?" Anselm asked.

Rüdiger stared at the boy in surprise.

"Don't be ridiculous, Herr Anselm," the Pospischil admonished him. "Of course the cows don't produce cocoa. You make it by adding cocoa powder to the milk. Which, I'm sure Rüdiger's Mama can do."

"I can do that myself," Rüdiger told him feeling slightly offended. How old did the Pospischil think he was? "I've been doing it for customers forever - and making salad and filling beer mugs, too. I can even milk a cow by hand, if I want to."

Apparently Kaspar and his friends had no more arguments after that.

The Pospischil finished collecting the last milk forms and then turned to Kaspar and Ottokar again.

"Now concerning Ottokar's money, the headmaster has asked us to make use of the occasion to remind all students, that one should not bring money to school. You do not need it here, there is nothing you can buy and a lot of people who could get into the wardrobe or the classroom while you're not there. As you noticed, you can't watch your money while you're in the Turnsaal, and it is almost impossible to catch a thief among so many people. Leave your money at home. Unless of course I have specifically told you to bring it for example for your school milk."

Everybody laughed.

"And one more matter," the Pospischil continued after a moment. He put his hand into his pocket and ... pulled out a pretty red moneybag with some white design on it. "This," He held it up for all to see. "Was found under a bench in the Turnsaal 1 wardrobe and handed in to Professor von Amselfeld yesterday. You wouldn't happen to know who might have lost it, Herr Ottokar?"

Ottokar blushed bright red, but nevertheless smiled widely as he went to the front to reclaim his moneybag. He clutched it tightly to his chest on the way back to his seat.

"This time," Professor Pospischil said. "There was no thief at all, but please remember what I told you: Do not bring money to school. Another time there might be, and even if you only lose it, not every finder is likely to be this honest. But now, to the Stundenwiederholung."

His eyes wandered over the students, stopped on Maxim for a moment, but them moved on.

"Franz!" he chose. "Come on, get up, Franz, and tell us how many cases we have in the German language?"

"Viere," Franz replied correctly.

The professor winced. "Could you please tell us in proper German and a full sentence?"

As it turned out, Franz could.

"And what are their names?" the Pospischil asked. "The proper Latin ones."

To Rüdiger's disappointment Franz not only got them all right, but did so much faster than he could have.

"And what are the cases of ... Haus?"

"Das Haus, des Hauses, den Haus ..." Franz started.

Ha!

"Stop, what's the Dativ again?" the Pospischil interrupted him at once.

"Dem Haus?"

"Indeed."

So Franz started over again and this time declined Haus correctly in both Singular and Plural, which were apparently the proper Latin names of Einzahl and Mehrzahl.

Next the professor chose Heinz who had to decline several more nouns and then it was Maxim's turn after all.

"So, Maxim, Franz already told us that nouns have cases and when declining them we noticed that they have a singular and plural. What else do they have?"

"They has articles," Maxim told him.

"They have," the Pospischil corrected. "That is a plural, too. And what kinds of articles are there?"

"There be indefinite articles and definite articles," Maxim said.

Had they really learned that last lesson? Rüdiger couldn't remember it.

"There are," the Pospischil corrected again. "Another plural. Do try to remember those, Maxim. And yes, there are, but that wasn't what I meant." He paused, then continued. "What else do nouns have? What definite articles are there?"

"There be ... there are der, die and das."

"And what is the difference between them?" the Pospischil demanded triumphantly.

"It be ... it are gender!" Maxim said equally triumphantly.

"It is," the Pospischil corrected. "This one is a singular."

But at least he let Maxim sit down after that and started teaching about indefinite articles and plurals himself.

 

The lesson was followed by another Beschwören one in which Professor von Hintersbach at least managed to write the C-dur onto the blackboard and tell them the names of the keys before going off on a tangent about her youth and Konstantin again.

Soon the class was happily chatting and blowing spit-balls a each other. Rüdiger looked around for something to do and finally remembered that Joachim had promised to explain something to him.

"So," he whispered even though it was completely unnecessary. "What was all that mumbling about your name about?"

Joachim winced. "Look, it's ancient history, okay? It doesn't really matter."

"It's making people act weird, though," Rüdiger pointed out. "And you said you'd tell me."

"Well, ... It's about the assassins, you see. Nobody likes to talk about them, it's such a horrible tale, and it's particularly terrible to us, because ... you see ... well ... my grandfather he ... Well, we don't really know. He always denied it in any case, but they say ... they say that he started it all."

"Started what all?" Rüdiger asked nonplussed.

"Well, ... Maybe that wasn't the best place to start," Joachim decided after a moment. "I suppose you need to know first that the emperor had two sons."

"Two sons? But didn't the von Hildesheim say that he wasn't able to produce a male heir at all?"

"No, no, that's the current emperor," Joachim shook his head. "He's infertile and - well, that's part of the story, too. But back then his father was the emperor and he could father children just fine, so he had two sons. The oldest was prince Maximilian and is now our emperor and then there was a younger brother, prince Rudolf."

"Oh, and he's the father of our princess then?" Rüdiger assumed.

"Why no, that's Heinrich von Lothringen. He was the son of the emperor's cousin. I mean the father of the current emperor and Rudolf again. That is ... The princes Maximilan and Rudolf were the sons of the emperor and the emperor's father, who'd been emperor before him, had had a brother. Heinrich von Lothringen was the son of that brother and Princess Anna-Theresia is the daughter of Heinrich von Lothringen. But they're not important right now, because prince Maximilian von Lothringen was going to be the next emperor and if he'd died prince Rudolf would have been."

Rüdiger tried to follow that, but in the end wasn't quite sure which emperor Anna-Theresia descended from. The only thing he was sure he understood was that she wasn't the daughter of either of the two princes Joachim was talking about.

"Right, so then prince Maximilian did something stupid. I don't remember exactly what it was, but that's not important, just that it was some foolish mistake that any young man might make, but a lot of people who didn't like him, or that he didn't like, started saying that he was too stupid to make a good emperor and that prince Rudolf should inherit the throne instead," Joachim continued.

"Is that possible?" Rüdiger asked.

"No, the oldest son is the heir," Joachim replied. "That's the law. But I suppose the emperor could change the law, if he wanted to. He probably would, if his oldest son were an idiot or something. In fact, I think the law was changed once when the emperor's oldest son didn't have any magic and now only a real wizard can become emperor. That didn't apply in this case, though, because both princes were perfectly healthy and intelligent. Prince Maximilian was just inexperienced."

"So prince Rudolf wouldn't have been better after all?"

"No. I mean, I don't know which one was better, but they were both perfectly suitable for becoming emperor," Joachim explained. "But there can only be one emperor and prince Maximilian was older, so he was going to be it. There was no reason to change it, you see, and therefore the emperor didn't. So when they saw that he wouldn't, some of the nobles who favoured prince Rudolf over prince Maximilian got very angry and some of them got together in secret and started to plot how they might get Rudolf on the throne after all. My grandfather was one of them, but not because he didn't think that prince Maximilian would be a good emperor, but because my father was going to school with ..." He stopped talking very abruptly and stared at Rüdiger with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"What's the matter?" Rüdiger asked. "Why don't you go on?"

"Nothing," Joachim said his voice sounding very odd. "I only just realised that I've met him. I met prince Rudolf and I didn't even know it. He told me to call him Uncle Rudolf!"

"So what?" Rüdiger remained unimpressed. "We've both met the princess Anna-Theresia and she's just a silly goose."

"Well, yes, but prince Rudolf, that's quite different," Joachim protested. "He's cool. A real hero and all."

"Alright, so you've met a real royal hero," Rüdiger conceded. "But what does your grandfather have to do with the two princes?"

"Well, as I was saying, my father was going to school with prince Rudolf, and so my grandfather thought that it'd be much more advantageous to our family, if Rudolf were to become emperor. So he joined up with some other nobles who had that same goal - It is commonly believed that he was their leader, in fact, but he always denied it and claimed that the real leader never revealed his identity and that he'd thought it was prince Rudolf himself. But that's nonsense, of course. After all prince Rudolf was still in school and never wanted to become emperor. He loved his brother, you see, and wanted nothing more than for prince Maximilan to have a long and happy reign. But the assassins didn't know that and one night when the emperor and most of his guard were away on a diplomatic mission to Italy, they snuck into the palace. My grandfather had been left in command of the guard during the emperor's absence, you see, so he'd simply given most of the guards the night off and left the palace unguarded except for a few men who were on his side."

It was Rüdiger that was staring wide-eyed now. This sounded like a movie plot rather than real life events that could happen to people he knew - or even their long dead relatives.

Except that grandfathers usually weren't long dead. Opa at least was very much alive and hoping to farm his land a good many years more before he retired and passed it all on to Rüdiger.

"They managed to catch prince Maximilian alone, just as they'd meant to do, and without raising anybody's suspicion at first, but then, luckily, things started to go wrong for them," Joachim continued his story. "The prince did get suspicious when a whole group of noblemen came into his private rooms, you see, and some of them had no reason to be at the palace at that time of night at all. So when they started flinging spells at him he wasn't as surprised as they'd thought he'd be and instead of being killed by the first spell he dove out of the way and started fighting back."

"Oh my!" gasped Rüdiger.

"They would probably still have killed him in the end as there were several of them and the prince was all alone at first and there were no loyal guards there to defend him, but prince Rudolf heard the noise of the fight. He called for the guards and they told him what was going on and that they were doing it all for him. Prince Rudolf was horrified and rushed to his brother's aid at the head of a group of loyal servants."

"And they saved prince Maximilian?" Rüdiger gasped eagerly.

"Yes, but he was very badly wounded, and so was prince Rudolf. I think he jumped in front of his brother to shield him and right into a spell or something," Joachim said. "But I don't really know how exactly it happened. My grandfather would know of course, but I've never met him. I only know what Papa told me. Prince Rudolf didn't mention the fight at all when I met him and Papa wasn't there, of course. He'd never have joined in such a horrible plot. In any case, they managed to kill two of the assassins and the rest fled. They had recognised their faces, though, and had them all arrested in the end, but right then prince Maximilian was so badly wounded that he should have died. There was no healer there that could have gotten to him in time, but prince Rudolf was in such despair when he realised he was going to lose his dear brother that he did some spontaneous healing magic even though he'd never learned any."

"One can do that?"

"Oh yes, magical children do it all the time, and it also happens to adults when they are very desperate or angry or frightened, but usually they are much smaller spells. This one was so strong that it burned out all prince Rudolf's magical strength and he hasn't been able to do any magic at all ever since. Not even the simplest spells, like turning on lights, or changing the lines in a notebook. But it was worth it, because prince Maximilian survived, except that one of the spells he was hit with that night has left him infertile and that's why he can't produce an heir. Prince Rudolf obviously can't inherit the throne either, if he survives his brother, because he isn't magical anymore. So ... well first of all they had an uncle who had a little son, but some assassins, my grandfather among them, escaped arrest and went into hiding and later attacked their home and killed the entire family. Then there was another boy, the son of the emperor's sister, but some of them managed to sneak into the school and kill him, too, and his family was poisoned. They finally caught my grandfather when he was leading an attack on Heinrich von Lothringen's house and that was the end of the assassins. They were all banished from the country for life, but either they'd poisoned the emperor as well, or all those losses and the grief made him sick. He died of his illness and prince Maximilian became the new emperor."

"But Heinrich von Lothringen got away," Rüdiger said. "Why didn't he have a son to save the male line?"

"He meant to," Joachim assured him. "But the first child was a girl, princess Anna-Theresia, and then he was killed as well and there wasn't anybody left."

"Oh, that's terrible!"

"Yes, isn't it," Joachim agreed sadly. "And it might be all my grandfather's fault. So of course our classmates hate his name. Everybody does."

"But you really believe that there was another leader? Someone that pretended to be prince Rudolf?" Margarete asked suddenly.

Joachim flinched at the reminder that others had been able to hear their conversation.

"I don't know," he said. "Papa says my grandfather always insisted there was, but most people believed that he was lying, so I suppose he might have been. I just don't see what reason he had to lie once he knew that he'd be banished for life anyway."

"Maybe he thought he'd be killed, if they were sure that he'd been the leader?" Rüdiger suggested.

"There is no death penalty in Austrian law," Joachim countered. "The emperor would have had to make a new law."

"Well, he could have," said Hildegard. "I doubt anyone would have blamed him after all the assassins had done."

"There definitely are people who say he should have," Margarete confirmed. "But my uncle says he was right not to. Even if the assassins themselves certainly deserved it, he says, once you start executing people you'll be tempted to do it to every political dissenter or anyone who's committed a particularly disgusting crime and eventually you'll go too far or make a mistake and kill someone who turns out to be innocent afterwards. A banishment can be lifted, but you can't bring the dead back to life."

"Oh, can't you? I thought that's what necromancers do?" Dieter asked.

"Well yes," Margarete allowed. "Necromancers are supposed to be able to do that." She looked confused.

"They can do it," Joachim confirmed. "But no decent wizard would. My Papa says it's a really terrible thing to revive a human being and only a few of the very worst necromancers ever did it. You can't bring them back completely, you see. They'd be stuck somewhere between life and death and that's really horrible."

"Besides, necromancers are very rare," Margarete added brightening. "And I think the last Austrian one was one of the assassins. So just imagine you'd executed an innocent wizard and then when you find out you made a mistake you can't find a necromancer to revive him!"

"You could hire one from some other country," Dieter countered.

"But you wouldn't want to do that if being revived is so horrible," Rüdiger suggested. "Maybe the dead wizard would even prefer to stay dead. What would you do then?"

"Why," said Sonja, "You could revive him and ask and if he'd rather be dead again then you could just kill him again."

"It's not that easy," Joachim corrected her. "If a necromancer has revived someone they can only die again if a necromancer releases them. That's why Dracula's castle remained surrounded by undead wolves and dogs and bats for generations after he died. They still find one that they missed in the big cleansing there every once in a while."

"Wasn't Dracula a vampire?" Rüdiger asked.

"Oh no, he just pretended to be," Dieter answered him. "He really was just a necromancer."

"A really, really evil one," Joachim agreed. "Maybe the evilest ever."

"So vampires don't actually exist?" Sonja asked hopefully. "They're just necromancers?"

"Oh no, they do," Margarete disappointed her. "But Dracula only pretended to be one to scare the non-magicals away from his castle so he could plot in peace."

"He wanted to overthrow the imperial family as well, you see," Dieter added. "Just like Joachim's grandfather."

"Oh, but my grandfather didn't really," Joachim protested. "It's sort of what he did, I suppose, but originally he only meant to make prince Rudolf emperor. And prince Rudolf is part of the imperial family, too, so you can't really call that overthrowing the imperial family."

"Maybe not technically," Dieter allowed. "But it's high treason all the same."

"So what did Dracula do?" Rüdiger asked both out of curiosity and to turn the conversation away from Joachim's awful grandfather. It had to be horrible to be related to someone so evil and he didn't want his friend to have to think of it any more than absolutely necessary.

The measure was unnecessary, though, as just then the bell rang and this time the professor did hear it and dismissed them.

"Oh good," the princess sighed loud enough for the whole class to hear despite the increase of noise that greeted the start of the big break. "I was afraid I'd have to ask her to let us go to the Turnsaal."

Her worry seemed a bit exaggerated, as big break was fifteen minutes long and they wouldn't be able to get into the Turnsaal until Professor von Amselfeld let them in, but it was nice to get to eat his sandwich in peace.

Franz gave him an envious glance when Rüdiger pulled out his hiking flask. Rüdiger smirked at him and took a long drink.

"What are you doing in the classroom?" the Gangaufsicht demanded angrily. "Out, out, out, out! No, leave your schoolbags inside. You don't need them during break. You only need your Jause."

"But we've got Tur..." someone started to explain.

"I don't care. Out into the corridor, all of you. Now!"

It would probably be alright to fetch their things right when the bell rang and then run straight to the Turnsaal before Professor von Amselfeld arrived, Rüdiger thought at first, but then, quite suddenly a group of much older students roughly pushed past him and his friends and disappeared into the first class classroom.

Next they heard some dismayed exclamations and then the older students started tossing schoolbags out into the corridor.

"Hey," Kaspar exclaimed rushing to the door followed by Ottokar, Anselm and Nikolaus. "What are you doing! Those are ours!"

For once Rüdiger agreed with the outburst.

"Well, this classroom's ours now," a particularly tall boy declared tossing a neat pink schoolbag out over Kaspar's head. "So take your trash and get lost."

Anselm only just managed to catch the bag, preventing it from hitting a fellow student or colliding with the opposite wall.

Ottokar took a step back and Nikolaus too, looked rather unsure of himself.

"Why you!" Kaspar yelled. "Come on boys, let's show those assholes!"

"We better help," Maxim decided and started towards the classroom as well.

Rüdiger wasn't sure that was such a bright idea. There were fewer older students in the classroom than first classlers outside it, but they were much bigger and stronger and not even Kaspar's friends looked eager to fight. In fact Anselm was now studying the name tag on the pink schoolbag.

"Sabine!" he called out. "Here, I rescued your things!"

Lieselotte and Sonja too turned their attention to the scattered about schoolbags and sorting out spilled contents.

Rüdiger looked at Joachim. He didn't feel at all obliged to assist Kaspar, but could they leave Maxim to fend for himself in such an uneven fight?

Just then help arrived from a most unexpected source. "See, Professor!" the princess' voice rang out from the nearby corner. "Just look what they've done!"

The Gangaufsicht was not at all amused. "Why Herr Tomas!" she shouted at the tall older boy who now had hold of the front of Kaspar's robe while Maxim clung to his other arm. "Let go of those boys at once! Attacking the little first classlers at your age! How could you."

"They attacked me first!" Tomas defended himself.

"I only protect Kaspar," Maxim countered. "I think big boy will hurt him. I try hold big boy."

"And I was only going in to get my things before they throw them out, too," Kaspar lied. "I know we're not allowed inside during big break, but just look at what they've already done."

"My penholder's broken!" sobbed Henriette.

"Right," the Gangaufsicht sighed. "Fourth class, why are you in the first class in the first place?"

"We've got Altmagisch here now, Professor von der Alp," a fourth class girl answered. "So we came in to set up our things, but the little idiots left all their stuff lying around."

"You told us to leave it," Fabian shouted. "And now look what happened."

"My poor, pretty penholder!" Henriette sobbed.

Professor von der Alp, apparently the sister or wife of the Darstellende Magie professor, took a deep breath. "Okay, so where are you supposed to be next lesson?" she asked the princess.

"In the Turnsaal, Professor."

"Alright, then, first class, go and fetch your schoolbags and clean out everything that's in your benches and carry it to the Turnsaal. Fourth class, let them pass. You can set up once they are gone. And do not throw any more schoolbags around. You could have carried them out or put them to the side without throwing them, you know."

There was a lot of glaring and mumbling, but the professor remained standing right by the door to oversee the procedure and so only a few insults and no more blows were exchanged. Henriette was still sobbing when Rüdiger and his friends passed her on the way to the Turnsaal with their luckily unharmed bags, but when they reached the Brausaal Rüdiger could already hear the first "Franziiiskaaa! Wait for meeeeee!" and concluded that the little nuisance was fine.

 

A shrill whistle rang through the Turnsaal silencing the first classlers.

"Form Stirnreihe!" Professor von Amselfeld ordered and 31 pairs of feet thundered across the room to the blue line they'd stood on last lesson.

Well, 30 pairs.

"Henriette! Get in the line!" several voices shouted.

"Not here, you idiot!" Franziska added when Henriette tried to do just that. "You're much too short."

"Didn't you pay any attention last time? Stirnreihe means to line up by size," Professor von Amselfeld scolded. "I told each of you where you belong and to remember your place."

"Not me," Henriette whined. "You said it didn't matter right then."

"She was late," Kaspar accused.

"Well, fine," Professor von Amselfeld allowed. "Then I'm telling you now." He grabbed Henriette by the shoulders and pushed her to the end of the line. "You belong here. Don't forget it again."

Henriette nodded hastily. Of course, Rüdiger thought, her place shouldn't be hard to remember. She was last after all.

"Today we start learning how to set up, use and put away the equipment in the Turnsaal. We'll start with the mats." He pointed at the blue mats hanging from the wall by their leather strips. "It takes four people to carry a mat. So when I tell you to fetch a mat and put it in that corner, the first four children in line," he pointed at Maxim, Franz, Augustina and Ottokar. "Run to the first mat in line."

They ran and Ottokar and Franz started to pull on it, but it didn't come off.

"Must lift off hooks," Maxim shouted and started to climb the ladder to reach the right hook.

The others let go of the mat and Franz climbed up on the other side. After a moment of useless pulling on the leather strips he and Maxim coordinated to pull simultaneously and ... the mat dropped to the floor with a tremendous crash almost burying Augustina under it.

Another shrill whistle sounded and the professor ran over to them.

"And that is exactly how you don't do it," he shouted so everybody was sure to hear. "Leave that mat there for now and let's try the second one. Now you two climb up to the hooks again, but don't start pulling yet. The other two take the lower corners and push up to help them. And once you have unhooked the strips, don't let go. Climb down slowly, and you start to carry the mat away slowly. Yes, now all change your grip so you're holding the mat by the leather strips. And now carry it across the Turnsal. Do not drag it and do not drop it."

This part looked easy enough.

"When you reach the place you are supposed to put it, lower it slowly so it doesn't make any noise, straighten it and fold the leather strips under the mat. Else someone might catch his foot in it during an exercise and trip. Then sit quietly on your mat. Got that? Good. Then put another mat into that corner." He looked expectantly at the next four students in the Stirnreihe.

This group, consisting of Kunigunde, Markus, Jürgen and Nikolaus managed to get the mat off the hooks just fine, but angered the professor by letting it drop into place with a loud bang and almost forgetting to fold under the leather strips.

The third group proved that carrying the mat wasn't without its difficulties after all as Sigrid and Heinz ran off too suddenly causing Ivonne to trip and Fadime, who'd just been changing her grip from the corner to the leather strip to lose her hold of the mat.

The fourth group included both Sonja and Lieselotte, but balanced out their good luck of being together by also combining them with Kaspar who complained loudly that the mat was too heavy.

"Will you just shut up and carry it already?" Günter finally snapped at him. "We could have put it down ages ago if you'd just start running."

Joachim, Dieter, Jasmin and Hildegard finally were the first group to place their mat without any incidents.

Then it was Rüdiger's turn. He frowned when he realised that he had to work with Franziska, Anselm and a quiet boy he'd never spoken with yet.

Anselm smiled at them, though. "Okay, Phillipp and I are tallest so we get the hooks, and you two push!"

Rüdiger nodded agreement, but it soon turned out that Anselm had bitten off more than he could chew - at least with Franziska only ineffectually bending her end of the mat upwards rather than pushing it at a helpful angle. He could not lift the mat far enough.

"Let me try," Rüdiger suggested. "I'm pretty strong." and let go of the mat.

Phillip yelped and the already free end of the mat slammed to the floor.

"Oh damn, it's much heavier than I thought!" he apologised to the annoyed Professor von Amselfeld.

"You should have waited for Anselm to take over," the professor informed Rüdiger sternly.

With the other corner already dangling to the ground it was even harder to lift the remaining strip free, but with the the other three pushing as hard as they could, though Franziska's efforts remained rather ineffective, Rüdiger finally managed to free it and they didn't seem to be all that bad a team for carrying a mat after all.

Margarete had to work with the princess, who turned up her nose at Dirk and Fabian and was even clumsier than Franziska at pushing a mat up. But with Margarete pushing in the middle they managed to get the mat down without any mishaps and even the princess was capable of carrying it and folding under the leather strips.

Now only Sabine, Nadja and Henriette were left.

"As there are only three of you," the professor allowed. "And you are the shortest, you may take the mat that is already on the floor."

It was probably a wise choice. Rüdiger didn't think Henriette would be any use at all and what chance had Nadja and Sabine to lift the mat free without help from below if Anselm, a boy, hadn't been able to do it?

Once they had placed their mat correctly Professor von Amselfeld assigned a number to each mat and then proceeded to shout out pairs of numbers the students on which had to exchange places as quickly as possible - and without colliding. Once he took to calling out another pair while the first was still running this became more difficult than it sounded and on two or three occasions a student suddenly found himself with the wrong group.

It wasn't as much fun as playing Völkerball, but nobody seemed to actually dislike it. Even Henriette was laughing when she dashed past Rüdiger on a long sprint from mat 2 to mat 4.

She looked a little less happy when the professor had to help her group hang their mat back on its hooks at the end of the lesson, and Kaspar complained that that wasn't fair.

"I no see why not," Maxim declared loudly. "Every group have four. They and Professor is four, too. That fair."

"Whatever your sort consider fair," Kaspar scoffed. "Like coming here to live off our social welfare system. Stealing our tax money ..."

"We no live off social welfare," Maxim protested. "We live off father's work."

"And child-support money!" Kaspar yelled.

"But everybody gets that," Rüdiger protested. He knew because Opa didn't like to accept charity and explained every year that every Austrian family with a child got some money from the sate as a gift. It wasn't charity if the rich got it, too.

"And besides he is right: it is perfectly fair," Nikolaus added. "Don't you start calling my Papa unfair."

That actually did shut Kaspar up for once and the school day ended peacefully after all.

 

Volksschulen - plural of Voksschule  
Volksschule - "folk school" - in Austria: primary school  
Schutzengel - guardian angel  
Opa – Grandpa  
Bergmönch - "mountain monk"  
Perchten - plural of Perchte  
Perchte - a mythical creature  
Perchtisch - Perchtish  
Sprache und Kultur – “Language and Culture“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be German’s (= first language).  
Turnsaal – Gym.  
Stundenwiederholung - "lesson repetition" - Exam on the last lesson at the beginning of every lesson.  
Viere - Viennese, correct German: Vier - four  
Haus - house  
Einzahl - singular  
Mehrzahl - plural  
der - the  
die - the  
das -the  
Beschwören - “Enchanting“ I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Music.  
Gangaufsicht – “corridor supervision” teacher on duty to patrol a corridor during break  
Jause – snack/tea/school lunch (A small meal in between the three big ones, not actually in place of lunch.) or packed lunch  
Altmagisch - "Old-Mageish" - I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Latin.  
Darstellende Magie – "performing magic" I tried to give each non-magical subject a magical replacement. This one is meant to be Art (as in drawing, painting and sculpting; Music and acting are not included).  
Brausaal - brewing classroom  
Stirnreihe – "forehead-row" – A line of people formed according to size: tallest to shortest or shortest to tallest  
Völkerball – "peoples-ball" - A ballgame played in Austrian primary schools. Very popular with the popular kids.


	11. Chapter 10: The Locked Door

Chapter 10: The Locked Door

 

September 17th 1990

 

"That colour changing ink is just so cool," Margarete told Hildegard on Monday morning. "Isn't it Rüdiger? I bought three bottles."

"It's amazing," Rüdiger confirmed. "But I still think one would have been enough for a while. Especially since you live in Salzburg anyway. You can always go back to Libro whenever you run out."

The equipment for Darstellende Magie had not been available at their Traffik, so he and Margarete had gone to the Getreidegasse for it on Saturday afternoon.

"Oh, could you sell me a bottle then, please?" Sonja asked. "I can't find it anywhere at home and my train ticket doesn't cover Salzburg."

"But surely there's a place you can buy it in Tyrol?" Rüdiger asked. "Have you asked Joachim where he's getting his art supplies?"

"I couldn't. He wasn't on the train this morning."

And indeed Joachim was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe he overslept and missed it?" Margarete suggested.

Sonja nodded sadly. "He'll be late. There's no way he can make the last bus before eight if he's on the next train."

"So what?" Margarete shrugged it off. "What can they do to him? Surely students are late all the time. He'll probably just get told not to do it again."

Still, Rüdiger hoped that Joachim would make it before the Pospischil arrived, but no such luck. When the teacher walked into the class the seat beside him was still empty and of course the Pospischil noticed it right away.

"Where's Herr Joachim? Do you know, Rüdiger?" he asked the moment they'd sat down.

Rüdiger shook his head. "No Professor, I only know that Sonja hasn't seen him either. They usually come together."

Someone giggled.

"Uuuh," Kaspar crowed. "Joachim has a girlfriend!"

More giggling.

"Does not," Sonja protested. "We just come by the same train, that's all."

The giggling however didn't stop.

"Ah well," the Pospischil said ignoring the exchange. "Please one of you remind him that I need a written excuse signed by his parents within three days, if he's sick."

"But how are we supposed to reach him, if he's sick?" Sonja asked. "I don't think they have a phone."

"They use a crow," Rüdiger confirmed. "But I don't have one either unless he writes to me first."

"I'll do it," Margarete promised. "I can borrow Papa's crow. And send him copies of our exercises, too, if you'll help make them."

"Two girlfriends!" Kaspar crowed.

They copied down their new schedules next and Rüdiger copied it again later, this time onto a sheet torn out of his Mitteilungsheft to send to Joachim. It probably wouldn't be much of a problem, if he didn't have all his homework on the day he first returned to school, but the teachers might get annoyed, if he didn't have the right books with him.

The only reply to Margarete's letter was a short note saying that Joachim had a terrible headache and couldn't write any more because the light made it worse.

"Magical over-strain," Margarete declared nodding wisely. "That's what you get, if you try to do a spell that's too advanced for you or cast too many spells too quickly. One shouldn't experiment with magic, my Mama says every time I get it. But then how will I ever learn?" she grinned and winked at them. "Besides Papa only says to do it more carefully."

Rüdiger only wished that he could do it at all, but they still hadn't learned to actually do a single real spell. Tapping already enspelled objects with one's wand to activate spells got boring once the novelty wore off.

While it felt a little lonely not to have Joachim beside him during lessons, Rüdiger found that it also helped him get to know his other classmates better during break. He even had some slightly longer conversations with the noble boys - with the exception of Kaspar of course, who frowned, but didn't call the others away. Apparently they were graciously allowed to speak with grandsons of farmers as long as there were no grandsons of traitors around.

"It's really not Joachim's fault, you know," he explained to Anselm and Ottokar. "He's never even met his grandfather and I think he's terribly ashamed of him."

"Well, he ought to be," Ottokar said.

"We do know Joachim isn't his grandfather," Anselm tried to explain. "But it's just not good to be seen with any of the family, you see. And Kaspar's been our best friend all our lives, and he gets so terribly upset if we only hint that Joachim might not be all bad. We don't want to lose our friend."

Rüdiger sighed. "You know, maybe if Kaspar actually tried to be more friendly to Joachim, maybe he'd even start to like him. Some of the others as well."

"He ... Well, it's just the way he is," Anselm replied vaguely and Rüdiger didn't push any further.

It wasn't like he actually wanted to make friends with Kaspar, and if he was honest he doubted that Joachim would be all that eager to either. They already had a good circle of friends and even if they didn't there were more appealing classmates to choose from. It actually surprised him that the other noble boys were so eager to keep Kaspar's friendship that they allowed him to dictate who they could talk with.

Maxim could probably explain it, he thought, but he wasn't nearby at the moment and Rüdiger didn't care enough to go looking for him.

 

Joachim didn't return to school on the next day or the one after nor apparently did the written excuse appear as the Pospischil gave them a very angry lecture on it.

So when Joachim did reappear on Thursday morning that was the first thing Rüdiger asked him about.

"Of course I have it," Joachim replied. "I'll hand it in in the first lesson."

But the von der Alp refused to accept it.

"I'm not your Klassenvorstand," he said. "You have to hand that in to Professor Pospischil."

"But we don't have him today," Joachim explained.

"And the excuse is already overdue," Rüdiger added. "Professor Pospischil was really angry about it yesterday."

"Then you'll have to go up to the Lehrerzimmer during break and give it to him there," the von der Alp explained.

However when the break between the two Darstellende Magie lessons arrived their fingers were covered in wet glowing paint and by the time they'd scrubbed it off there was no time left to go upstairs.

During the second break there was not only the problem of scrubbing paint off their fingers but also that of cleaning up their desks, packing up and returning to their own classroom.

"The big break is probably the best time to go anyway," Joachim decided. "It's longest, so we will have ample time to catch the Pospischil."

Rüdiger decided to accompany his friend upstairs at the beginning of the big break to keep him company in case he had to wait outside the door for a long time.

It was unnecessary, though. There were a lot of professors going in and out from their lessons and to Gangaufsicht duty.

"Excuse me, Professor?" Joachim asked the first who came out, the von Hintersbach. "Is Professor Pospischil inside?"

"Professor Pospischil? Why this is his day off," she informed them. "You'll just have to come back tomorrow."

"But my excuse is overdue," Joachim tried to explain, but the professor had already rushed off.

"Ah, never you mind, my boy," said an ancient looking professor.

Rüdiger decided she had to be the oldest woman he'd ever seen. She was tall, very thin and her skin was as wrinkly as the horrid spoiled apples that weren't even fit to give to the pigs anymore. He couldn't imagine how it was that she was nevertheless walking without a cane. Unless of course she was doing it by magic.

"If it's already overdue it can wait another day," she declared.

"But Professor Pospischil was really angry about it yesterday," Rüdiger told her.

The old professor smiled. "And he'll be angry tomorrow, too, but he'd be even angrier, if he had to come in today to get it. Come back tomorrow just before eight if you want to get it over with with the least amount of trouble."

They stared at her.

"You can trust my predictions, I haven't been teaching Omen und Schlussfolgerungen for over seventy years for nothing," she assured them.

"That must have been the von Nordström," Joachim whispered to Rüdiger when she'd left. "She's a seer! And the oldest and wisest teacher in the whole school. She has been since the time when my parents went to school at least."

"She sounded really nice," Rüdiger said. "It's a pity we don't have her."

"We might next year, I think," Joachim hoped. "It's just that we don't have any of her subjects yet. I think they're all rather advanced and many of us don't know anything about magic at all yet, so we probably couldn’t understand them yet."

"We'd best do as she told us and come back tomorrow," Rüdiger decided. "If the Pospischil tells us we should have handed it in today, we can always tell him that the von der Alp wouldn't take it and both the von Hintersbach and the von Nordström said to wait a day. He can't blame us for doing what three other professors told us to."

They started to walk back to the stairs to return to the ground floor when they noticed two other boys coming up.

"Hey, that's Maxim and Franz!" Rüdiger exclaimed. "I hope they don't need the Pospischil, as well."

But their classmates only ran on to the next flight of stairs and kept going to the second floor.

"That leads up to the old dormitories," Joachim remembered. "I thought those were all closed?"

Rüdiger shrugged. "Maybe there is some room still in use up there, or maybe they just forgot and went up to explore. Come on, let's follow them and see what they do!"

They ducked under the chain that was supposed to bar off the stairs and followed their classmates. The corridor upstairs was grey and dark. Most likely the oil lamps were in urgent need of a thorough dusting.

"I guess they don't clean a lot up here," Rüdiger remarked.

"That door's open," Joachim pointed. "They must have gone in there."

They followed. The room was no cleaner than the corridor. Everything there was covered by a thick layer of dust and there were cobwebs in every corner. The wooden floor was uneven and the walls that had once been white now looked beige or in some places grey. The furniture was covered with sheets, but appeared to consist of a table, two chairs, two bunk beds and two large cupboards. A chandelier with real candles hung from the ceiling and there was an oil lamp mounted over every bed.

Maxim and Franz were struggling to decipher the text of a framed document that was hanging next to the door.

"Hey, what's that you found?" Rüdiger asked them.

"Dor-mi-tor-y rules," Maxim read out.

"We can't really tell," Franz admitted. "It's the same old writing as in your bible and I still can't read it and Maxim doesn't know the old fashioned words."

Joachim appeared to be more successful "That sounds really strict," he commented.

"They probably not really punish everything," Maxim said wisely.

Rüdiger however was more interested in the window which showed a view of the park outside the school. Strange. From outside he'd only seen a bare rock wall. How could there be windows?

"It's the same spell as the windows in our classroom of course," Joachim explained. "Except this one has a view, because the students were allowed to look out if they wanted to. The time they spent up here was free time after all."

"How did they turn on the lamps?" Franz asked. "They don't have a switch and there's no ladder to reach the candles with a lighter either."

"Oh, that's easy," Joachim said and pointed his wand at the chandelier "Age!"

The candles lit up at once.

"See?" he said beaming widely. "And to extinguish them," he repeated the gesture. "Sta!"

"Room for four people, but only two chairs," Maxim remarked.

"And one of them's broken," Franz added, demonstrating how wobbly it was.

"Let's have a look at the next room," Rüdiger suggested. "Maybe someone borrowed the chairs from this one for something else."

They returned into the corridor and tore open the door to the opposite room. A cloud of dust welcomed them.

Rüdiger coughed, but apparently Franz and Maxim had been prepared for this.

"It was the same in the other room," Franz explained. "You have to open them more carefully."

This one too, had only two chairs.

"Let's see the others, too," Joachim suggested. "I think there were different dorms for commoners and nobles. I want to know which kind these were and what the other sort looks like."

Eagerly they went on to the next door. Maxim pushed the handle down carefully and pulled on it, but the door didn't move.

"Is closed," he reported disappointedly.

"Nonsense," said Franz. "You just didn't pull very hard and it's stuck. Let me try."

"Is closed," Maxim insisted, but stepped aside so Franz could confirm it for himself.

Franz pulled on the door with all his might, but it didn't budge.

"See, is closed," Maxim announced and turned away.

"But it can't be," Franz insisted. "Why should they lock this one and not the other two?"

"So maybe it is stuck and not locked, but we obviously can't get inside," Rüdiger decided after making a quick try himself - after all he was very strong from all the farm-work "Let's see if any of the others are locked as well."

They each tried another door all of which opened easily and were about to move on to the next set of rooms when the sudden ringing of the bell announced the beginning of the next lesson.

"Oh no!" Joachim exclaimed. "Run!"

They turned and pelted back down the corridor, leaving the doors open. Rüdiger cast one glance back over his shoulder at them wondering whether it wouldn't be wiser to take the time to close them, but if they didn't get down to at least the first floor before the professors started to go down to the classrooms they'd either be seen coming out of a forbidden area or arrive in the classroom after the professor.

Then his foot struck something and he stumbled and almost fell. He glanced down. A small wooden box? What was it doing in the middle of a deserted corridor?

"Come on Rüdiger! Hurry!" Franz shouted back at him and Rüdiger stooped and picked up the box to examine later.

This certainly wasn't the right time. He felt icy cold with fear at the thought of being caught.

The first floor appeared to be empty as they pelted past it and further down. Now they were safe! They might be told off for walking this far to check for their approaching professor instead of remaining in the classroom or for running, but nobody had outright forbidden the first yet and the second was a very common offence.

By the time they reached the ground floor they could hear steps and voices behind them, but they only had to be in the classroom when ... The classroom door was closed.

They stopped right outside it.

"We're too late," Franz stated the obvious.

"The von Hartig must have come straight from Gangaufsicht duty," Joachim theorised.

"No, he no Gangaufsicht now," Maxim as usual knew more than the rest of them. "That probably Gangaufsicht behind us. They go back to Lehrerzimmer when bell ring. Von Hartig leave Lehrerzimmer then."

"Oh, what should we say?" Rüdiger wondered.

"We toilet," Maxim declared. "Toilet during lesson is allowed."

Rüdiger hastily pushed the wooden box into his robe pocket and put on his best innocent expression. Even if the von Hartig didn't believe them there was no telling what they'd really done now, right? They were just a little late. The icy feeling finally vanished.

Maxim opened the door and said: "Sorry Professor. We toilet." very politely.

"Joachim was feeling unwell, you see," Franz added maybe a bit too hastily. "And well, you probably know he's only just returned to school today so we were concerned."

The others all nodded hastily.

"Yes, very concerned. They're really good friends," Joachim confirmed. "But it was nothing. I'm already feeling much better. Probably just slang my sandwich down too quickly."

"You picked a very dusty toilet," the von Hartig declared looking pointedly at their clothes and the whole class laughed at them.

They did get away without any official punishment, however, though Professor von Hartig 'happened' to pick them for the Stundenwiederholung.

"Must watch clock next time," Maxim decided after the lesson.

"So you want to go back?" Joachim asked a little uneasily.

"Of course we'll go back," Franz announced "We still haven't seen the other kind of dorm."

"And we left the doors open," Rüdiger added. "We ought to be up there right now closing them."

"No," said Maxim. "Break too short. We go big break tomorrow."

"You went up on the second floor!" Margarete squealed. "And you didn't tell me? Tomorrow I'm coming with you."

"Shush!" they all made.

"The Gangaufsicht might hear you," Joachim added.

"Or even worse," Franz whispered rolling his eyes. "Henriette."

"Can't have whole class come," Maxim agreed. "They notice."

Over all the planning and excited whispering Rüdiger completely forgot the wooden box in his pocket. He only remembered it when he'd returned home and started changing out of his robe.

He pulled it out and set it on his bedside table to regard it. In the dark and dusty second floor corridor it had looked like a very simple and cheap thing, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. It had beautiful patterns carved into its sides and the double eagle branded onto the lid. Maybe it was expensive?

Then he shouldn't have taken it, but it also shouldn't have been sitting on the floor of an abandoned corridor like that. How could it have gotten there?

He picked it up and turned it around, but there was no name tag anywhere. Still it had to belong to a fellow student. Maybe one of the other boys had dropped it, though he didn't think Franz or Maxim were likely to own something like that. Joachim was from a noble wizarding family, though. Maybe they used such boxes with double-eagles on them to carry things in.

But wouldn't he have seen it sometime before if Joachim carried it with him all the time? Lord von Raifburg certainly had carried only a money pouch and his wand in his pocket during their shopping trip. Or had he? Where had he taken his pen-holder, parchment and ink from when he'd written that letter?

For a moment Rüdiger was convinced that the box contained a writing set, but then he remembered the pencil-case that sat on Joachim's desk during lessons. There was no reason for his friend to bring two writing sets to school.

But maybe it was the writing set of another student, one not even in his own class who'd also snuck up to explore and lost it. They hadn't seen anybody else, but the box might have been up there for several days.

Except that in that case it couldn't be a writing case or the student would have missed it in his next lesson and come back for it.

Rüdiger decided to open the lid and peek inside. If he knew what exactly was in it he'd be better able to judge who it might belong to and how important it was to them.

An icy chill ran up his arm as he pulled on the lid, but it didn't budge.

There didn't seem to be a lock anywhere, but the box felt locked anyway. Most likely it was spelled closed, Rüdiger decided. That would explain the odd feeling of cold, too, some side effect of the spell.

It would take a counter-spell to open the box, but he couldn't do any yet. Nevertheless he tapped and pushed the box with his wand a few times before giving up.

Maybe it was for the best that he couldn't get inside, though. After all the box didn't belong to him and he should never have taken it. He'd have to take it back tomorrow.

No, he couldn't. If the owner had come looking for it in the meantime and not found it in the corridor he probably wouldn’t look there a second time. Better to hand it in to the Pospischil and ... and what? If he said that he'd found it the Pospischil would want to know where and why he'd been there. He couldn't confess to having been on the second floor.

Besides, what if the owner had deliberately left it up there to hide it? Maxim had said that some students hid cigarettes in the wardrobe, but maybe not everybody thought that safe enough, so somebody had put his in a magically locked box and left it where nobody ever went. What would happen, if he handed a secret stash of cigarettes in to the teachers?

In the end he took it back to school the next day, pulled Joachim aside when everybody else was distracted by the arrival of the school milk and showed it to him. Joachim knew an opening spell, but it didn't work.

"Well, it definitely isn't yours," he recommended then. "And it bears the imperial seal. Hand it in. You can't be blamed for whatever's in it, if you don't even know the spell yet and you can say you found it next to the sink in the toilet. Anyone could have found it somewhere else and then forgotten it there."

But the Pospischil scolded so much over Joachim's excuse that Rüdiger was afraid it would only provoke him even more and hid the box at the bottom of his school-bag instead. He'd keep it for now and return it if he ever found out who the owner was.

They went up to the first floor as soon as the third lesson ended, a group of five this time as Margarete could not be talked out of joining them, and loitered about there as there were teachers coming and going from and to the Lehrerzimmer all the time.

"Were you waiting for me?" the Pospischil asked when he passed by.

"No Professor," Maxim told him honestly. "We no waiting for anybody. We just looking around."

"You know," Margarete added. "Stretching our legs and seeing what rooms are up here."

"Well, just remember not to run in the corridors. This is no playground."

"Why no Professor!" Franz assured him. "We're taking a walk. Walking, not running."

The Pospischil didn't exactly look reassured at that, but went on his way. For a moment they thought that now was the time to dart up to the second floor, but just then two more professors appeared.

"... and you know everybody else agrees that the angel has been tempered with," one of them was saying and Rüdiger recognised the wizardess that had checked out his Schutzengel after the stone angel incident. "Though we still aren't sure whether they meant to turn off the protective spells or intentionally tempered with the salute."

"You're sure it wasn't just a student prank, Patrizia?" That was the von Kogler.

"Of course I'm sure," the strange professor returned. "No child could have done it, no not even an eighth classler. Their magic might be developed enough to perform the spells required for it, but the theory behind it is too advanced. They couldn't figure out how to do it. Besides, they'd have to simulate the characteristic magical signature of the imperial family. How would they even obtain that in the first place?"

"A lot of noble families are distantly related to the imperial family," the von Kogler remarked. "If it was one of them ..."

"Too distantly. They'd have to analyse the ..."

"And just what do you think you are doing here?"

Rüdiger started. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been sneaking after the two professors to listen in on their conversation, let alone the von Lehnsbach's arrival.

"Oh dear!" Margarete exclaimed blushing. "I ... we ... didn't mean to!"

"We were just going for a walk," Rüdiger repeated their earlier excuse. "And heard someone talking about the stone angel. And well, Margarete, Joachim and I were there when it happened, you know."

"And now you are frightened," the von Lehnsbach assumed. "You've been raised on the scary tales of assassins old Heinzelfrauen tell and now you're ready to believe all the Kaffeeklatsch about the assassins coming after Princess Anna-Theresia."

They nodded contritely. Not that Rüdiger had ever even met an old Heinzelfrau, but who was he to contradict a teacher that was making up such a believable excuse for his misdeed?

"Could ... could the salute be used to ... to ... k ..." Joachim looked awfully pale and couldn't finish his sentence.

"Kill someone?" the von Lehnsbach continued it for him. "I am not sure. Enchanted objects aren't my area of expertise. What I do know however is that the stone angel can recognise certain wizards, produce sound and close the arch to prevent a suspect person or a monster getting through. It does not have any weapons to attack with, but I suppose some real experts might be able to add one. Still it is not at all likely."

He regarded them seriously and apparently they still looked very frightened, because he then continued: "Do you want to know what I believe happened?"

They all nodded eagerly.

"Well, you have probably heard that a suspected sighting of Amadeus von Raifburg in Austria was reported not long before school began. Personally, I don't think it really was him. He'd be risking his life by entering the country after being banished from it, so if he did, he certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to walk around in public like that. But the report was made, parents heard of it and like you they thought he might be after the Princess. Some of them contacted the school and suggested all sorts of additional safety measures, but Headmaster Parazelsus told them that the stone angel was quite enough. We don't want any actual attack spells or guard soldiers trained to use possibly lethal spells in a school full of children, you see. Mere curiosity or a harmless prank might lead to a serious accident. But one of those parents just wouldn't be content with that and turned to Frau von Cerny. You know Frau von Cerny, don't you? The school secretary?"

The house dragon, Rüdiger remembered and almost laughed.

"That parent was an old friend of hers, you see, so she promised to do something and cast an additional identification spell on the arch to make sure that no stranger came through disguised as a child. It was well meant and all, but she should have remembered that there already was another identification spell on the angel. Now, you can't know that yet, of course, but one mustn't cast related spells that aren't identical or meant to be combined very closely together. They can react with each other and produce all sorts of unexpected effects and that's exactly what I believe happened. The arrival of the Princess activated the salute, but the recognition of other students passing through confused the stone angel and the timing component of the spell failed. That's why it didn't turn off again. There was no assassin and no danger, just a simple oversight in a well meant action."

That was a comforting thought, and later when Rüdiger told the story at home Opa nodded and said: "That sounds very likely. You know, most things that go wrong in life are simply coincidences or mistakes. There are thieves and such of course, but very few people go through life making elaborate plans how to do others harm. Most likely a lot of people are jealous of your Princess and might think or even say they wish her dead, but that doesn't mean they'd actually kill her or anyone else in cold blood."

There was less and less time to waste on making up theories about the stone angel or exploring the second floor as well. Every week now there was at least one test, exam or Schularbeit to prepare for, there was homework for two or sometimes even three subjects to do and then the studying. There weren't nearly enough hours in a day to actually study an hour for every subject they'd been told they had to do it in and of course there still was the farm-work to do. Rüdiger couldn't simply stop doing his share just because he was in secondary school now.

He was almost glad that Kurt had gone away to boarding school. It was bad enough when Michi and Mustafa accused him of giving himself airs because he was in the Gymnasium now when he had to tell them that he didn't have time to meet up with them and join their games. Not only did he have too much to do, whenever he did find time to talk and play with the village children they talked about things he didn't know anything about and he could only sit there and listen silently.

Despite this reduction of his social life his grades weren't nearly as good as they'd been in primary school, but then most people's seemed not to be.

"Phew, I passed after all!" and "Damn, not another five." were pretty common statements to overhear after the return of a Schularbeit or test, almost as common as the speeches of their teachers telling them that they were too lazy, would never have passed back in their own school days, had it much too good and too easy.

Rüdiger was getting quite convinced that he didn't belong in the Gymnasium despite having received only one five himself so far.

He threw his latest four, on a Schularbeit the Pospischil claimed had been far too easy, into his school-bag angrily and reminded himself that he'd never intended to go to the Gymnasium in the first place and had no use for the Magica even if he were good enough to stay on long enough to take it. Opa's farm wouldn't care.

"No, no, I'm sure it works," he heard Augustina's voice from the front row. "The way the pendulum swings tells you the gender of the child and ... well, I don't quite remember how to tell the number."

"Well, that's all very fine," Kunigunde said. "But can it tell us whom we're going to marry? Come on, Augustina, the Princess needs to know. Don't you?"

Princess Anna-Theresia sighed. "Right now I'd much rather know whether I'll pass stupid Sprache und Kultur. Why do we have to bother with the cases of objects again?"

"Besides it all sounds a lot like necromancy to me," Franziska added. "You know those weird boards they use for seances where ghosts are supposed to guide your hands? Spooky if you ask me."

"I heard a tale about one of those," Henriette piped up suddenly. "It happened right here in the school."

"Oh really?" Augustina laughed.

"Well, so those fifth class boys said, that I heard it from," Henriette insisted. "Of course it might just be a scary tale someone made up," She'd learned to be careful not to admit to any personal beliefs, opinions or original thoughts of late. "But it has one of those boards in it."

"Alright," said the Princess. "I'm bored enough for anything. Amuse us with your silly children's tale."

"Right," said Henriette. "So way back when this was still a boarding school there was a fire in one of the dorms once. A noble dorm it was, I think. The students had lit a candle and fell asleep and the whole room burned out."

"Boooring," said Augustina. "And what does it have to do with necromancy?"

"Well, you have to let me finish," Henriette told her. "That's only the first part of the story. Because some years later the students in the same dorm played at having a seance. But they didn't expect it to work, because they were using a non-magical board and non-magical rite, you see. They were just fooling around. But when they said 'Ghost, are you here?' they got all cold and their hands were drawn to, yes, and they got scared and abandoned the game and did not release the ghost."

The Princess and her gaggle laughed.

"Oh, big deal," scoffed Franziska. "And you really believed that, you baby?"

"I didn't say I believed anything," Henriette protested. "I said I heard a story and I'm telling you that story. So that night there was another fire and the room burned out again, but this time they could not find any reason and when they tried to repair the room it burned again and after that nobody would live in it anymore, so it was locked up and remains locked to this day."

Rüdiger shuddered. He decided not to go up to the second floor again. It was forbidden anyway and they'd seen all there was to see. All except that one room that they hadn't been able to open.

"Pah, that's a ridiculous story," Kunigunde scoffed. "If you want to hear a story about this school, I've heard a much better one."

"Oh? What's that?" Franziska and Augustina cooed.

"Well, I heard that hidden somewhere in the forest, not far from the school, there is a magical well," Kunigunde began.

"Ooohhh, is it a fountain of youth?" Augustina squealed.

"Or of wisdom?" asked the Princess.

"Or beauty?" suggested Franziska.

"Does it have a prince that's been turned into a frog?" asked Henriette.

Rüdiger snorted, but luckily the girls didn't notice over their own laughter.

"No, but if you look into it at exactly midnight, you'll see the face of the one you'll marry!" Kunigunde shouted delightedly. "Back when this was a boarding school girls used to sneak out at night to search for the well all the time. And it never failed any girl that found it."

"What a pity we're never here at night," Franziska said. "It'd be just the thing to set the Princess' mind at rest about the succession."

"And everybody else’s, too," Augustina added. "Maybe we could pretend to have a sleepover some night, though and meet up here instead?"

"You could," the princess said sadly. "They never let me stay out overnight without a guard. It's not safe, you know. There might be assassins."

"And there's no guarantee that we'd find the well," Kunigunde added. "That is the real challenge, you see. It's really well hidden."

"Let's try the pendulum again," the princess said. "Maybe we can at least make sure that I'll have a son to inherit the throne."

"You know," Rüdiger remarked to Joachim. "I actually liked Henriette's story better. At least that was spooky."

"Huh?" Joachim looked up from the correction of his Schularbeit. "What story?"

"Oh, Henriette just told the gaggle some legend that there's a haunted room in the school," Rüdiger said casually. "An old dorm room that's been locked because someone held a seance and forgot to dismiss the ghost."

"What rot," Joachim laughed. "If that had really happened all they'd have had to do was go in and dismiss him now. You don't even have to be a necromancer to do that unless the ghost was murdered and the culprit never caught."

"Ah well," Rüdiger said not sure whether he felt more disappointed or relieved. "It still was a nice spooky story to go with our mysterious locked room. Much better than that stupid magical well one."

"Oh, one of those toss in a Kreuzer and make a wish things?" Joachim said. "Those are alright. The wishes don't come true of course, but the money's given to charity. Papa and I always make a donation when we pass one."

"Oh, that's nice," Rüdiger had to agree. "But I don't think that's what Kunigunde meant. She said one had to look in, nothing about money."

"You're right, that is boring," Joachim agreed and went back to his work.


	12. Chapter 11: The Magical Fireworks

Chapter 11: The Magical Fireworks

December 24th 1990

By Christmas time the path from the bus station to school was covered in deep snow that had been trampled down hard and slippery by many feet. Rüdiger was surprised that no nonmagicals ever seemed to notice the well-trodden path.

Their Sports lessons usually consisted of skiing now, for which Rüdiger had transferred his old skis to the ski shed in school. Sometimes he was tempted to just put them on and ski to the bus station as he had to school back in his primary school days, but then he'd have to take them home with him and bring them back for the next Sports lesson and on a packed full bus they were not only a hindrance, but downright dangerous as the driver had pointed out in the morning when he'd first brought them. It was better not to drag them about more than necessary.

On the last day before the Christmas holidays he was determined to take them home with him, though. If he was home for a whole week with no homework to do, surely he'd want them at some point. The bus drivers would just have to live with it.

A nice surprise awaited him when he entered the classroom. A twig from a fir tree and a Christmas biscuit had been left on each desk for the students!

"Oh, that's pretty!" Margarete exclaimed as well. "How nice of them!"

"And tasty," commented Franz and ate his biscuit right away.

"I so eager for tonight," Maxim told them. "I ask for proper robe like you have."

"They're neat, aren't they?" Rüdiger agreed. "I wouldn't have had them either, if Joachim's father hadn't talked me into buying them. He thought everybody would have them."

"Big students all do," Maxim confirmed. "And most of class now. I want, too. I hope Papa understand. He always say nonmagical clothes is more practical."

"Well, they are if you're going out where nonmagicals might see you," Sonja said. "But I'm glad I've got robes for school now, so people can't see right away that I don't have magical parents. It makes me feel so stupid when they explain everything to me before I even ask."

"It shouldn't really matter, though," Joachim commented. "Lots of people have nonmagical ancestors. Who cares how long ago it was."

That was easy for him to say of course.

In his lesson the Pospischil lit all four candles on the class' Adventkranz for the first, and probably last, time and made the Princess read out an advent story before they all sang a nonmagical advent song.

Then they analysed the sentence structures of a short text about nonmagical Christmas customs.

"Does anyone really still go to midnight mass?" Franz asked the Pospischil curiously.

"Yes," Rüdiger shouted out even though he knew he ought to have raised his hand. "Lots of people where I live, do. We'd go ourselves, if Mama didn't insist I'm still too young."

"So you don't go to Christmas mass, only because of your age?" the Pospischil asked apparently forgetting all about Rüdiger talking without permission over the question.

"Oh no, we go to the children's mass in the evening instead," he explained. "Unless I can convince Mama that I'm not a baby anymore first."

He didn't really think it would happen, though. Maybe next year. After all he'd be eleven then. Eleven was pretty big, wasn't it?

"We don't go at all," Franz said. "We never really go to mass. It's dead boring."

"Not children's mass," Henriette commented to everybody's surprise. "They always do something fun there. Grownup mass is boring, because it's all in Latin so you don't actually know what the priest's saying."

"Your church still preaches in Latin?" Sonja was amazed. "But what's the point of that? Nobody understands it anymore!"

"Yes," the Pospischil confirmed. "Many magical churches still preach in Latin or Altmagisch which is very closely related to Latin. It is traditional and besides many spells are in Altmagisch as well, so most wizards have at least some knowledge of the language. But back to German grammar now. Read the next sentence Fräulein Henriette."

 

Luckily Professor von Hildesheim came prepared to discuss the subject of magical Christmas traditions, though.

"Magical Christmas cards traditionally portray the Christkind walking beside a sleigh pulled by a single unicorn," she told them. "While I believe nonmagical ones make her pull the sleigh herself or use a white horse. The horse is acceptable if you have to send a nonmagical Christmas card to your friends as she is sometimes also shown with various other nonmagical animals, but pulling the sleigh herself or carrying a sack instead of using a sleigh is demeaning. She has angels to do the manual labour for her."

If only she'd told them that sooner! Rüdiger had already written and sent out all his Christmas cards for this year.

"The Christmas tree of a magical family should restrict itself to the traditional apples and straw ornaments. A few angel figures are acceptable, if you don't overdo it, as are red Christmas balls, but everything else is gaudy and nonmagical. Yes, even lametta. I don't care for those new-fangled tales about 'angels' hair' at all. Angels do not tear out their hair to decorate your tree."

The more he heard the more disappointed Rüdiger grew. He wouldn't be able to do any of this, except leaving some food out for the Erdhuhn after the Bescherung. Everything else either would have had to be prepared earlier, or was up to the adults.

"Our Christmas tree won't look a bit like a proper magical one," he complained to Joachim after the lesson.

But Joachim laughed. "Neither will ours. We've always had lametta and colourful ornaments as long as I remember. And silver garlands, too, just like the nonmagicals do. I don't know what magical world the von Hildesheim's living in, but it certainly isn't the same I am."

"It probably that of her Opa," Maxim suggested. "She all about old ways."

Rüdiger still wished that he could celebrate Christmas with a magical family to make sure it really wasn't any different. The familiar traditions of his own family, that used to feel so magical in the past now seemed boring. The only consolation was that Papa would probably already be there when Rüdiger got home. He only had to work until noon on Christmas and would start for the farm straight from work.

Luckily the next lesson was Turnen which distracted him from his disappointment about the magical Christmas traditions and his longing to go home early as well. Skiing was fun for everybody ... well, everybody that wasn't Henriette in any case.

The little girl still covered her eyes with her hands everytime she had to ride in the invisible Seilbahn - whose stations could actually jump to whatever slope they wanted to ski on! - which meant that she had to let go of her skis. Those were then promptly snatched up be the gaggle. Rüdiger had at first hoped that Henriette would learn from her mistake, but no such luck, she still left her skis unguarded every time which always led to the same result.

They had only just arrived at the top and were preparing to get out of the cabin.

"Oh look at this miniature pair of skis," Franziska called out triumphantly holding up the pair of girlish pink and white skis. "They must belong to some tiny little baby. I wonder what they're doing here."

"They're mine!" Henriette squealed. "Give them back!"

But the Princess and the gaggle were already leaving the cabin with Henriette's skis.

"They can't belong to a school girl," Kunigunde declared. "Lets throw them away. Nobody will come to claim them anyway."

"Lets throw them up into that tree," Augustina suggested. "See how high we can get them."

"Nooo!" Henriette wailed.

"That's it," Rüdiger declared as the boys watched the girls' unsuccessful attempts to get the second ski to stay up in the tree. It kept falling out again. "Next time I'll insist on my right to ride with the commoners."

"I've already tried that," Nikolaus commented to his surprise. "Papa won't let me."

"Yes, but you are a noble," Anselm reminded him. "Rüdiger really is a commoner, so the Professor can't really make him."

Professor von Amselfeld as usual arrived with the last group of students, scolded Henriette for her antics and returned her missing ski to her with a wave of his wand.

Henriette looked miserable, but whether about the scolding or the prospect of having to ski Rüdiger couldn't have said. Unlike him Henriette was not at all a good skiier and unlike Maxim who'd never learned before at all, apparently didn't enjoy it either. But then Maxim was also getting most of the von Amselfeld's attention while those who already knew how to ski were mostly left to their own devices. This meant that whenever Maxim fell or was unsure what to do the teacher would be there to help him sort himself out while Henriette who was the second most likely to end up in such a predicament, and the most likely to panic about it had to cope on her own.

Perhaps, Rüdiger thought, it wasn't actually stupidity but cleverness on her part to always allow her skis to fall into the gaggle's hands. It postponed their start and therefore possibly reduced the amount of time she actually had to ski.

"Ready?" the von Amselfeld asked.

"Yes!" they all shouted happily.

"Not quite!" yelped Henriette who was still fumbling with the leather strip of one of her sticks.

"Then let's go!" the von Amselfeld shouted raising one leg so the ski stood upright in the snow.

The students except for Henriette who tended to fall over when trying it anyway all did the same.

"And remember we wait together at the tall fir tree, Rüdiger," the professor reminded him once more. Once or twice Rüdiger had overshot the mark and only stopped when he'd reached the bottom. "Schie!"

"Heil!" the students shouted.

"Schie!"

"Heil!"

"Schie!"

"Heil!"

"Zicke-zacke!"

"Zicke-zacke!"

"Hoi! Hoi!! HOI!!!" they all shouted together and then they were off ... except for Henriette who had tried to join them in the ritual after she'd fixed the problem with her stick and once again lost her balance and was now picking herself up from the ground.

"Franziiiiskaaaa! Wait for meeeeeeeeee!"

Rüdiger didn't bother to glance back and see whether there was any reaction to the familiar call. He was determined to be the first one at the fir tree but for that he had to beat Margarete, Nikolaus and Dieter. Especially Nikolaus was almost as good as he was and didn't like to be beaten at anything in his own father's class.

Soon they were rushing down the slope side by side, the wind rushing past them.

"Mind the tree!" Margarete yelled suddenly.

And indeed Rüdiger realised he and Nikolaus had once again overshot the mark. He braked sharply and started to climb back up to where Margarete and Dieter stood next to the tree. A moment later Nikolaus too noticed that he was suddenly alone, glanced back and followed his example.

"If only the professor would let us go all the way down we could probably ride up again and make a second pass before stupid Maxim gets here," Dieter complained.

They always referred to Professor von Amselfeld as the Professor. It just didn't seem appropriate to call him the von Amselfeld in front of Nikolaus.

"Maxim isn't stupid," Rüdiger protested. "He's just never learned to ski. He's still learning."

"And he isn't doing that badly anymore, either," Margarete pointed back at the slope. "See, those are pretty fluid turns. Not all that much slower than the Princess."

"Still slow," Dieter insisted. "And ... why even he's way ahead of the baby! We'll be waiting here for ages today until that idiot gets here."

They all groaned when they saw that it was true. Henriette, far back near the top and covered in snow that indicated numerous falls seemed to have drifted off the beaten track somewhere and was struggling backwards through deep snow trying to get back to where she ought to be.

"How did she even manage to get in there?" Margarete asked frowning.

"Fell and slid?" Nikolaus suggested. "Or maybe lost a ski and crawled in after it."

"Don't her skis have stoppers?" Sigrid who'd just caught up to them asked. "Seriously, how does that little fool get herself into these situations?"

"She looks too funny, though," Dieter remarked. "Just look at how stupidly she's stumbling about. And flop, there she lies again! Girls! They just can't control their skis."

"Hey," Margarete swung her stick at him. "I can control mine better than you do!"

"Do not!" Dieter retorted ducking away hastily before raising his own sticks to retaliate.

"Oy, stop that!" Nikolaus called hastily. "You'll take somebody's eye out and then Papa will have to write an accident report and He will probably conclude that skiing is unsafe and make us stay in the Turnsaal all the time from now on."

It had taken Rüdiger a while to figure out that when Nikolaus said He he meant the headmaster. He wasn't sure why.

Joachim reached them a moment later and stopped beside Rüdiger.

"What's going on?"

Rüdiger nodded up towards the top of the slope. "Henriette. Ruining everything as usual."

"We should just go on and leave her here," Margarete opined. "It'd serve her right, maybe even teach her to act normal."

"We can't," Fabian told her. "The Nachtkrapp might come and get her, if she's all alone. She certainly looks small enough."

"It wouldn't be much of a loss," Dieter stated.

"Haven't they found her yet?" Joachim asked surprised. "I thought they were sure she'd return soon, because she had eggs in her nest?"

"Ha," laughed Fabian. "They probably just said that so people wouldn't be scared. She's still missing, but supposed to have been seen in this area. So you see, she could probably come any carry off Henriette."

"Would she really?" Rüdiger asked. "I mean, you said they carry off little children. Henriette is small, but hardly a toddler."

"They prefer babies and toddlers," Fabian, who apparently considered himself some sort of expert, explained. "But if they don't find any," he shrugged. "They have been known to attack adults, too, but they're afraid of fire and adults can do all sorts of impressive fire spells."

"Besides, they're probably too heavy," Dieter added.

"Everything alright?" the professor asked when he and Maxim arrived, slowly but looking happy.

"I no fall at all," Maxim announced proudly.

"Yes, everything's perfect," Nikolaus assured him. "Can we have a proper race, Papa? You know, because it's Christmas.

"Maxim is hardly up to that, yet," the Professor countered.

"Yes, well, can't those of us who are up to it have a race?" Nikolaus didn't give up. "And Maxim can be the judge, or give start signals. Or both! Then you can go pick Henriette out of the snowdrift in the meantime!"

"Henriette? Snowdrift?"

"Up there," Franziska said pointing. "The child is sooo embarrassing!"

The Professor sighed. "Alright class, wait here. I'll go and get the two-left-feeted wonder."

"But Papa!" Nikolaus whined. "That's so boooring!"

But the Professor had already taken off.

Dieter let himself drop into the snow. "And all because of Henriette."

"As usual," added the Princess.

Rüdiger almost wanted to say something in Henriette's defence, just to contradict the Princess, but thought better of it. He didn't want to be seen as the crybaby's friend.

 

Papa was waiting for him when he stepped out of the mirror and the living room was already locked so 'the Christkind could work in peace'. Rüdiger knew of course that it was really Mama that decorated the tree and put the presents under it.

"Lunch is almost ready," Papa said.

And of course there would be goose for dinner.

"Did you know some people have carp or smoked pork for Christmas dinner?" Rüdiger asked Papa. "The Pospischil told us today."

"Why, of course," Papa said with a fond smile. "In fact, we always had carp when I was a boy. It was excellent. There'd be fish soup for lunch and then carp for dinner. But of course, this isn't a good area for carps."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Do you miss it?" It would be interesting to try different Christmas traditions for once.

"Why? Your mother's goose tastes better than any carp I've ever eaten," Papa laughed. "But do take your skis outside now. I don't think Mama would be happy to find them in the larder."

It was lucky that there were no guests at the rest station to see Rüdiger carry his skis through the house wearing robes. Mama sent him to change into his best nonmagical clothes after lunch even though that meant that he couldn't really do much until they went to church.

The mountains were beautiful in their deep white snow covers and Rüdiger felt very happy and excited on the way down to the village. Kurt and his family were also there and at first Rüdiger was very eager to catch up with his best friend.

He ran over to join Kurt and it seemed that all was forgiven and forgotten. Kurt was delighted to see him and soon began chattering away almost the way he'd used to. He told Rüdiger all about his dorm mates Georg Andert, Robert and Dominik Haukl and how big the school was and how they all addressed each other by their last names, which Rüdiger thought was very weird.

"Oh, don't you?" Kurt was quite surprised. "I thought you went to a Gymnasium, too?"

"Why yes, I do, but we just talk like normal children, well, except for the Princess."

"Princess?" Kurt asked even more astonished and Rüdiger remembered only then, that of course Kurt mustn't know that there were nobles at his school.

"Oh well, you know," he lied hastily. "We call her that because of her arrogant attitude. It's a nickname, you see. Just a nickname. She's really called Anna-Theresia."

Kurt laughed. "Oh that's an awfully princessly name, too. I can see where she gets that nickname!"

"Yes, exactly," Rüdiger confirmed, though he wasn't completely sure what Kurt meant. "And then there's a boy called Kaspar who's almost as bad and Henriette the cry-baby, but we just try to have as little to do with them as possible. I just hang out with Joachim and Margarete and Hildegard and Sonja and Maxim. Oh, and Franz, too, though I don't really like Franz. But he's Maxim's friend, you know. And he has to sit next to Henriette, which must be really awful. So we others tolerate him."

But then Kurt started talking about his teachers and how he liked various subjects and wanted to know whether Rüdiger liked them, too and whether they'd learned the same things or was one of them slightly ahead? Did they have the same books?

"Oh, I think they must be all different, because ... because we're non-standard, you see," Rüdiger invented hastily. "We're probably doing everything differently and in a completely different order, too."

Luckily Michi then entered the conversation and it turned out that the Hauptschule did use some of the same books as Kurt's Gymnasium, so they could compare their progress while Rüdiger hastily retreated to his parents' side.

"They're talking about what they've learned in school," he told Papa dejectedly. "And I don't know anything about it."

"Ah," said Papa. "But you've learned different things. Much cooler things."

"Yes, but I can't tell them about those. They'd think I'm mad."

"But you can talk about them with Joachim," Papa said apparently not understanding the problem. "And what did you say your other friends' names were? Margarete and Maxim?"

"Yes, but what about Kurt and Michi and all the others here?" Rüdiger asked desperately. "They'll think I don't like them anymore, if I don't find something to talk about soon."

Papa shrugged. "Don't you think that maybe now that you're on your way to becoming a wizard, you should spend more time with your own kind? These non-magical children were good for you when they were the only companions you had, but maybe you've outgrown them."

"But I'm only going to magic school for four years," Rüdiger pointed out. "Then I'll come back here to work on the farm. What if none of them like me anymore then?"

Somehow the mass with all its beautiful tales of love and the joy of giving didn't seem as inspiring as usual after this and Rüdiger felt cold on the way back home instead of full of that warm joy and excitement he remembered from earlier Christmasses.

Only when shortly after their return the little bell on the Christmas tree rang to tell them that the door was finally open and they could enter did he forget his unhappiness.

They went in to find a large Christmas tree with many candles burning and lametta and Christmas balls reflecting the flickering, dancing candlelight. Underneath were the neatly wrapped gifts and the Krippe with the figures of the holy family and the kings and shepherds. Rüdiger smiled at the sight of the old ox that was missing one horn, but had always been his favourite figure anyway.

"Oh, beautiful, beautiful tree this year!" Franzek exclaimed. "Look Rüdiger. They holding hands."

Indeed two of the angel figures were hanging so close together that it looked as if they were flying hand in hand, but Opa interrupted their admiration of the tree.

"First we must sing," he reminded them. "Stille Nacht at the very least."

But of course they sang five Christmas songs as every year, because each of them got to choose one. Then Franzek took a picture of the whole family in front of the Christmas tree and Papa took another, so Franzek could be in it, too.

Only then were they allowed to admire the tree from every side properly before they blew out the candles and Rüdiger got to crawl around under the tree to sort the gifts and take each to its proper recipient.

He was quite astonished to find that he had received two more than usual until he realised that one of them came from the von Raifburgs, who of course had not sent one before because they hadn't known him.

Curious what they might give him he opened that one first and found a set of wooden toy animals that actually moved! 'We meant to get you a farm set,' a little accompanying note said. 'But then we saw this set of magical creatures and thought it would be a more magical gift. Merry Christmas from Joachim, Lord von Raifburg and Lady von Raifburg.'

"Oh, and I haven't even met Joachim's mother yet! And I only gave Joachim some of Mama's Christmas biscuits!"

"I'm sure they'll understand," Papa reassured him. "They know that they are much richer than we are, after all. Besides, I did send them a nice bottle of wine and a nonmagical writing set for Joachim in all our name."

The other extra gift turned out to be a second one from Papa. The first contained a pair of self-warming winter boots and the second a beautiful fur-lined winter cloak with two-headed eagles embroidered on it.

"Oh Papa!" Rüdiger gasped.

"Something to keep you warm in style and demonstrate your loyalty to the emperor," Papa explained. "I think it's probably important to assure them that you're not harbouring any dangerous democratic leanings due to your background."

He winked and laughed when he said it, but Rüdiger couldn't help wondering whether he mightn't be more right than he realised.

Mama had knit him a new warm jumper.

"Because you still need something to wear at home as well," she said with a meaningful side glance at Papa.

Franzek, as usual had carved a new wooden toy for him, a sheepdog this time.

"Because I give you sheep for birthday and sheep need guarding," he said.

And when he opened Opa's gift and saw that it was an actual, real radio and cassette player all his own Rüdiger felt quite bad for having left this one for last. But then one of them had to be the last one. Though next year, he promised himself, he'd make it the von Raifburgs' gift, because they weren't there to see and feel neglected.

He spent most of the evening playing with the magical creatures and the wooden dog, who really fit together splendidly, while listening to the radio and munching biscuits until Mama insisted that he had to go to bed.

Could there be anything better than Christmas?

 

The next day he skied down into the village to go sledging with the other children as he did every year and this time the conversations with Kurt and the others worked much better, too. Everybody wanted to know what everybody else had gotten for Christmas and thanks to his new radio Rüdiger had no problem answering them satisfactorily.

"And a beautiful new sheepdog for my collection from Franzek," he added. Those carved animals were the envy of many a child that owned only plastic ones.

"But what did your parents give you?" Petra pushed.

"Oh, just warm winter clothes," Rüdiger replied. "You know, useful, but not exciting."

He returned home happy and looking forward to spending the next few days of the holidays with his friends from the village as well, but he'd barely taken off his shoes when a crow landed on his arm and with an officious 'Caw!' held out a pink roll of parchment.

By now Rüdiger was used enough to such encounters that he only laughed, untied the roll and thanked the bird. As the colour might already have told him, if he'd stopped to think about it it came from Margarete. She was having a New Years party with a snowball fight and flying bull riding before the traditional fireworks watching and Bleigießen. Of course there would also be refreshments and Rüdiger was warned to bring an extra robe to change into in case he got wet through in the snowball fight. Of course he was also invited to spend the night at Dunkelbrunn castle.

"Oh, that'll be nice," Papa said. "A lot of fun and you'll probably see much better fireworks much closer up than here."

"But they are complete strangers," Mama worried.

"No, they are not," Papa disagreed. "They are the family of Rüdiger's dear friend and very important nobles. The von Raifburgs probably know them, too. In fact, most likely they'll be there as well."

Remembering what Margarete's cousins had said about the von Raifburgs Rüdiger wasn't that sure, but he nodded eagerly anyway.

"At least Joachim is sure to be invited," he said. "And all our other friends. Please Mama, you've got to let me go!"

Mama hesitated for almost a day, but then Shadowwing arrived with a letter from Herrn von Raifburg asking whether he should give Rüdiger a lift to the party or would he just mirror over? Apparently he wasn't quite sure whether Dunkelbrunn castle was within direct mirroring distance of the farm or not.

"There you see," Papa said. "The von Raifburgs are going, too. We're not sending Rüdiger off with strangers at all."

And Mama finally agreed.

Kurt was even less thrilled by the idea than Mama.

"You're invited to a New Year's party?" he said as if he'd never heard of the concept. "A New Year's party?"

"Yes," Rüdiger confirmed again. "At my friend Margarete's. She lives in the city, you know. Where there are a lot more fireworks. And all my other friends are coming too."

"That sounds great," Petra said. "I wish I had cool city friends who'd invite me to parties."

"Pah," said Michi. "We can just have our own party here. With a sleepover at our farm. I bet Mama won't mind if we let Flo invite all his friends, too and everybody brings his own bedding."

"Ah, that sounds great, too," Rüdiger said a little regretfully. "A pity I can't attend both parties."

Kurt however didn't seem to see it their way. He told them New Year's parties were stupid and he didn't care for fireworks anyway and went home early to sulk.

"What wrong with him?" Mustafa asked. "Why he no like sleepover? I like very much."

"That sulky, stuck up idiot's just disappointed because Rüdiger's rich city friends invited him and his own rich city friends didn't think of Kurt at all," Petra explained. "Even though Rüdiger's not at all rich, I guess he's got the better connections."

"Or maybe Kurt's friends just happen not to be having any parties," Rüdiger pointed out. "I don't think they're all that common a thing. Margarete was probably just looking for an excuse to have some friends over to play with. Her mother wants her to be awfully girly, you see, so she doesn't get to have a lot of fun all that often. A party's a good excuse."

The others just shrugged, though. They didn't really mind that Margarete was having a party after all. Rüdiger ought to tell all that to Kurt, but unfortunately Kurt was once again not talking to him.

"I know it's frustrating, Rüdiger," Kurt's Mama told him when he sighed and looked dejected at the news. "But I'm sure he'll get over it soon."

"I just don't understand what's wrong with him," Rüdiger said. "I thought everything was fine now that he's met his own classmates and made friends there. What's the big deal about me going to a New Year's party? It's not like Kurt was expecting me to come over on New Year's. Or was he?"

"Not that I know of," Kurt's Mama replied and shrugged helplessly. "Maybe he's just starting puberty early. That would explain all the trouble he's gotten into in school as well."

"Trouble in school?" Rüdiger asked. "He didn't mention any trouble."

Kurt's Mama blushed and quickly said: "Oh, it was nothing big, anyway. Don't worry about it. It just surprised me that he got up to mischief when he's always been such a good boy. Why don't you run along and play with your other friends while he sulks himself out? He'll probably be back to normal tomorrow."

Unfortunately he wasn't, but then Rüdiger wasn't dependent on Kurt to have a good time. He went skiing on his own, built a snowman with Michi and Flo, went sledging with a large group of other village children, took walks with Papa and exchanged letters with Joachim and found that in fact he hardly missed his former best friend. He felt much closer to Joachim these days.

On New Year's Eve the von Raifburgs picked him up in their flying coach right after lunch and they flew to Salzburg where they landed in a large park that was apparently part of Dunkelbrunn castle and invisible to nonmagicals. Hoof and wheel prints in the snow proved that they weren't the first guests to arrive and Rüdiger suddenly grew very nervous. Was his cheap printed robe even appropriate? The von Raifburgs were all three wearing their fine ones with the family crest on them and the castle was so awfully big and impressive!

"Oh, and mine's no better!" Sonja, who'd already been in the carriage when Rüdiger had gotten in, exclaimed worriedly.

"Oh, it's probably alright," Joachim assured them. "After all the invitation said we're likely to get soaked playing."

"And there's nothing anyone can say against your cloak, I assure you," Joachim's mother - Rüdiger simply couldn't think of this elegant and somehow distant woman as anyone's Mama - said. "It'd be good enough to wear at court. At least if one is a commoner like you."

"In a noble it would be suspicious not to wear ones crest, you see," Herr von Raifburg added. "It'd seem like you wanted to hide your identity."

Rüdiger was very glad to have Papa's Christmas gifts, especially when they reached the entrance hall and several adult guests that had been standing there talking turned around to look at them with downright disapproving looks and then started to whisper.

Herr and Frau von Raifburg simply ignored them as they handed their cloaks to an old Heinzelmann and Rüdiger and Jochim did their best to do the same even though those adults all wore highly elegant robes with elaborate crests that would have been most interesting to look at.

An actual, real human servant welcomed them with an elegant bow and offered to lead the adult von Raifburgs into the ballroom where the zu Dunkelbrunns were waiting to greet them, but the children didn't seem to be included in this offer. Rüdiger looked questioningly at Joachim. What were they expected to do next?

"Margarete's party will probably be in one of the bigger side rooms," Joachim said. "But I don't know the house well enough to be sure and it would be improper to just run in anyway. So we'd best just stay here and ..."

But just then a Heinzelfrau bustled up to them.

"Oh I'm sorry, junge Herren! Have you been waiting long? I just had to go down to the kitchens for a moment to decide a question about the refreshments." She shook her head sadly. "We have some rather inexperienced additional servants here for the occasion, you see. I hope you don't mind. If you would follow me, please."

She led them down a long corridor and into a large, elegant room with gold-framed pictures and actual frescos on the ceiling. Rüdiger thought it was more appropriate for a museum than is children's party, but the number of children of various ages milling about and the large buffet table laden with all sorts of delicious food and various decanters full of fruit juices made it very clear that this was indeed the right place.

Margarete shot out of the crowd with a delighted scream. "Sonja! Rüdiger! Joachim! I'm so glad you came!"

More softly she added: "Mama and my uncle the Duke made me invite the Princess and her gaggle and Kaspar, too, but then I insisted you and Maxim and Franz should come as well. Really I don't know what Mama's problem was this time. It was never a problem to invite Hildegard and she was perfectly fine with Lieselotte and Sonja, but she got that odd disapproving look when I said I wanted Rüdiger and said 'Well, alright' in that condescending tone as if I'd asked for some grand special permission. And then I said Joachim and at first she flat out refused and wouldn't have Maxim or Franz either."

"Maybe she thought you were inviting too many people," Rüdiger suggested. "And didn't know what room to put them all in? This one is much too elegant for a children's party. She's probably awfully worried that we'll damage something."

"Oh nonsense," Margarete scoffed. "My cousins' party is even bigger than this and there are hundreds of dirt repelling spells on everything that's worth anything. The worst thing we can do is break some glasses."

"It's probably because they're boys," Sonja offered. "You know how the gaggle are always going on about marriage. Your Mama's probably just worried that you wanted them here as ..." she giggled "suitors."

Margarete burst out laughing. "What a silly idea. But you're right, Mama probably was just such a gaggle-ish girl when she was in magic school and now she expects me to be the same. That must be it."

The snacks and juices were delicious and in many cases completely unfamiliar to Rüdiger. Either they were magical specialities - the glowing wand-shaped sugar sticks that shone through your cheeks as you ate them certainly looked that way - or expensive stuff that his parents would never buy. Rüdiger doubted the horseshoe-shaped chocolates were at all magical since they didn't do anything strange at all.

"And now it's time to go outside and have the big snowball fight!" Margarete announced. "The bigger kids from my cousins' party are already on their way!"

"Oh, do we have to have balls and fighting?" Henriette whined. "I don't like those at all!"

"Even bigger kids than you are?" said a toddler girl that had been running around the room playing an odd mixture of hide and seek and catch with some of the other smaller guests that Rüdiger didn't know.

"Yes, much bigger. The oldest ought to be seventeen, I think. At eighteen you're allowed in the actual ballroom." she added by way of explanation.

"Where they have champagne!" an about five or six year old boy exclaimed.

"Maybe is not good idea have little ones in snowball fight with seventeen year olds," Maxim said doubtfully. "Is so much bigger they maybe get scared."

"Oh nonsense!" exclaimed Margarete. "It's just throwing snowballs. And we'll have equal teams. The biggest children will probably be too busy with each other to bother with them."

"Well, I'm not that little and I'm scared," Henriette said and was promptly ridiculed by Franziska, Kaspar and their friends again.

Only the Princess didn't seem in the mood to have fun with Henriette.

"Just stay here then," she said. "You can watch the little ones while we play outside."

"I wanna play outside, too!" said the toddler. "I wanna build a snowman!"

"We're not building snowmen, so you can't," said the Princess.

The toddler burst into tears.

"Why not?" Maxim asked. "Is very big garden. Little children make snowman in one half, we play in other. Everybody have fun. You want make snowman, Henriette?"

Henriette nodded. "Yes, I like that a lot. There's no fighting and no losers."

"Then everybody who like make snowman go with Henriette and everybody who like snowball fight go with Margarete," Maxim announced, but Margarete also sent for another Heinzelfrau to go with the snowman builders.

"Because we're not supposed to be unsupervised," she explained. "Especially the little ones might have an accident and need someone to cast a spell or apply a band-aid."

Rüdiger soon realised that Maxim's idea had been a very good one. Several of the smaller children disappeared from the snowball fight not long after it began when they realised that a group of the oldest boys liked to gang up on smaller children and hit them very hard.

An about nine year old girl called Kathi was even grabbed, lifted up and dumped face-first into a snowdrift by them and they laughed uproariously when she came back up with her face covered in snow and screaming.

At first Rüdiger, Joachim and Franz laughed, too, because Kathi really looked too funny as she flailed in the snow, but Maxim shook his head at them.

"Not funny," he said. "Is cheating. And she no can breathe under snow. That scary."

But their Heinzelfrau didn't intervene and the fight went on without Kathi who was seen walking off in the direction of Henriette's group her face looking very red, though it was impossible to tell whether this was from embarrassment, crying or merely the exertion and cold of the snow she'd only just wiped off her face.

After the fight the girls and boys went into separate rooms to change into their dry robes. Apparently some of the slightly older girls were uncomfortable undressing in the presence of boys.

"I put in the mouth!" the little toddler girl was telling everybody when they returned into their party-room which was now set up for dinner. With actual candles lit on the table and the two Heinzelfrauen standing ready to wait on them! "Kathi lifted me all high up and I put in the mouth. It was a stick. And it's all big and pretty!"

Rüdiger assumed that that last statement referred to the snowman and not the stick.

"Don't eat too much!" Margarete warned. "Remember to leave room for the caviar and salmon sandwiches at midnight!"

But the food was much too good to think about that and there were still several hours to go until then.

Hours that were to be filled with Bleigießen and other fortune-telling games.

"We need something that will tell whom we'll marry!" Franziska announced predictably.

"Oh, not again," groaned the Princess. "We've tried just about everything and nothing has worked out."

"It's because we're still too young," Margarete declared. "The further into the future you look the less precise it gets. And this is Silvester. We want to know what the next year will bring. And therefore ..."

Three Heinzelmännchen appeared carrying a bowl full of water, a candle and a large tray full of spoons and small lead figurines.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sonja in delight. "Look, they're actually moving!"

Indeed, just like his magical creature toys the lead figurines seemed to be animated.

"They not feel when we melt them, do they?" Maxim asked a little worriedly. "Because that be cruel."

"The best part's when they're half melted and trying to get away," Kunigunde declared. "Just wait till you see how funny that looks."

"Can I have a horseshoe?" the little toddler girl begged. "I want a horseshoe!"

"I want a pig!" Henriette shouted.

"Oh, you want a pig?" Kaspar crowed. "You ought to marry the farmboy! Here Rüdiger, you have a pig." He snatched one of the figurines off the tray and held it out to Rüdiger with a nasty grin.

But Rüdiger had no problem accepting it with a polite "Thank you. Are you taking a Streithahn then?"

"We don't have cocks, I'm afraid," Margarete said. "I suppose Kaspar will have to make due with a poisonous mushroom."

"But I wanted the pig," Henriette complained. "I always get the pig at home."

Margarete rolled her eyes.

"Is not problem," Maxim announced after inspecting the tray. "Is still pigs left."

"Now remember not to suck on it, young Fräulein," the Heinzelfrau that handed the little girl her horseshoe said. "It is poisonous lead, not chocolate. If you want something to put in your mouth, there are bonbons on the side table."

Several children rushed over there to get some candy, but the little girl remained and watched excitedly as another Heinzelfrau lit the candle and placed it on the table next to the bowl of water.

"So you want to go first?" She asked the girl when everything was set up and the little one nodded excitedly. "Alright, then we'd best lift you up on this chair so you can reach. Now pick a spoon and put your horseshoe on it. Yes, like this. And now we hold it over the candle. I'll help you a bit, because it'll get too heavy for tiny fingers after a while."

She put her hand over the girl's making sure that she didn't get too close to the flame.

"Now we have to wait until it is all melted."

That appeared to be hard on the little girl, but the Heinzelfrau insisted that they had to be sure the lead was completely molten.

"Now," she said finally. "We have to throw the molten lead into the cold water very quickly. "But be careful that it doesn't splash anywhere else. It is very, very dangerously hot."

Of course with the Heinzelfrau guiding the little hand there was no real danger and the lead dropped into the bowl with a loud hissing sound.

It was soon fished out again and held out to its caster for inspection.

"So what do you think it is? What does it look like?"

"Horsey!" the girl exclaimed immediately, even though Rüdiger thought that if the thing resembled any shape at all it was a tadpole.

"Well," said the Heinzelfrau. "That means that you'll most likely go on a big journey next year. Or it could mean that your family will buy a new flying coach."

"Oooohh, but next year is so far away!" the little one exclaimed to everybody's amusement.

The Princess insisted on going next and cast what was quite definitely a bird.

"An important or unexpected message," the Heinzelfrau pronounced. "I wonder what that might be. It's more usual to get this result the year before you start magic school."

"Oh, maybe it's a love letter!" Kunigunde squealed. "From your future husband!"

"I'm not so sure I'd want to marry a man that writes love letters to ten year olds," Margarete said wit a frown.

"That's true," Franziska agreed. "It is very inappropriate. I doubt you'll be allowed to accept him."

"It's probably nothing of the sort at all," the Princess decided. "Most likely it's an invitation to another party. A really big one that will be a lot of fun."

Kunigunde came next and cast what she declared to be a well. She was rather disappointed when the Heinzelfrau told her that meant that she would learn an important lesson rather than meet a prince.

When Franziska demanded to follow Kuniunde however the Heinzelfrau insisted that it wasn't fair that all the girls should go first and it was now time to let a boy try. Kaspar loudly declared that that had to mean him and Margarete promptly volunteered Joachim to spite him.

Rüdiger looked over at the noble boys worriedly, but found that Ottokar was grinning and Anselm trying hard not to laugh. He shrugged helplessly at them and Nikolaus shrugged back. They were used to Kaspar's outbursts after all.

"A shooting star," Joachim declared his result after a lengthy study.

"Rising fortune," the Heinzelfrau announced. "You will probably do well in school and forge new connections."

"But I already had such a good year and made so many new friends," Joachim told Rüdiger.

"I think she means that people will give up their prejudices against your family now that we've invited them to our party and start inviting you again, too," Margarete whispered. "At least Papa said they probably were just waiting for somebody to take the first step."

There were so many more things cast that Rüdiger soon lost track of who got what and how it was interpreted. Only Henriette's stuck out.

"A ... roll of parchment?" she suggested after regarding the strange shape for a very long time. "Maybe it's a letter, too? If it's such a big party, maybe I'll get invited to the same one as the princess!"

"Perhaps," the Heinzelfrau said. "There's something very formal about parchment, though, so maybe this is your grade sheet to tell you that you will receive good grades in school."

That seemed highly unlikely to all their classmates, though. While Henriette's Schularbeiten had all received passing grades as far as Rüdiger knew her oral performance had been far from good so far.

His own result was surprisingly clear to him.

"It's a dog," he declared even before fishing it out of the water. "The head of a German shepherd dog."

"Do you have a dog?" the Heinzelfrau asked him looking at the shape intently.

"Not at the moment. Our old one died last year and Opa has been meaning to get a new guard dog ever since. I expect this probably means that he'll do it sometime next year."

"The casting usually announces something more relevant to the caster than a relative getting a new pet," the Heinzelfrau said a little doubtfully. "If you yourself were getting a puppy, though ..."

"But Rüdiger lives on his Opa's farm," Margarete objected. "So the dog will probably be like his own anyway."

"Or maybe the dog will save Rüdiger's life!" Sonja exclaimed excitedly.

Rüdiger wasn't so sure he liked that idea. Of course it would be cool to have a life-saving dog, but somehow he thought he'd prefer not to need saving in the first place.

After that they played some more games and ate more candy. Watching the Fledermaus on TV didn't seem to be a magical tradition. In fact, some of the children from magical families didn't even know what a TV was.

Shortly before midnight they went to put on their cloaks again to go out and see the fireworks, all except the tiny little girl who had fallen asleep in a corner of the room.

"Should we wake her up?" somebody asked. "She'll miss the fireworks."

"Ah no," decided Margarete's Heinzelfrau. "The poor baby needs her sleep more."

She did go over and gently lift her head to push a pillow under it. The little girl woke up, mumbled a protest and went right back to sleep.

"See," said the Heinzelfrau. "She's much too tired to enjoy the fireworks."

And so they went without her.

 

Even though it wasn't midnight yet the show seemed to have been going on for a while, though slowly. About every minute or so a yellow streak would shoot across the sky and burst into white or yellow sparks.

Rüdiger thought it was quite a show to see them this close, but Margarete declared them boring.

"Those must be the cheapest ones the nonmagicals have," she said. "They probably won't bring out the good ones until midnight. Then things will get more colourful - and they'll be all over the sky!"

"And just wait until you see the magical ones," cousin Friedrich added. "They draw actual pictures and moving scenes. I wish I could show you, but Papa would have my head."

"You've got to be of age to make fireworks, you see," cousin Eduard explained. "Even though it's not at all dangerous to shoot them from your wand."

"And even I know how," Margarete whispered. "Want to see?"

But cousin Friedrich objected quite vehemently to that experiment claiming that he would be blamed if one of his parents saw a magical firework rise before the proper time.

"Alright, then I'll do it later when all the adults are busy shooting them themselves," Margarete promised and stuck her tongue out at her cousin.

A few minutes before midnight the big doors to the ballroom magically opened and the adults came flooding out onto the terrace laughing and talking. An old Heinzelmann stood on a table so everybody could watch as he opened a bottle of champaign and filled glasses that were handed out to the guests by other Heinzelmännchen.

"Exactly at midnight!" the young Heinzelfrau who pressed one into Rüdiger's hand whispered.

Rüdiger stared at it almost as disbelievingly as he had at the von Raifburg's coach that first time they'd come to the farm. He'd had cheap sparkling wine on New Years before, but never dreamed of tasting something as expensive as real champaign.

And then the bells tolled and fireworks in every colour burst over their heads and people were shouting "Prosit Neujahr!" all over the terrace and clanking their glasses against Rüdiger's and he actually, really was drinking champaign under the magically - Or were those all still non-magical fireworks? They certainly didn't feel that way. - changing lights.

For a while he just watched the sky, completely entranced by the colourful display and slightly dizzy from the alcohol, but then he started to look around the terrace and noticed people here and there lift their wands to shoot off streaks of light that took on all sorts of fantastic shapes.

Margarete's uncle, the Duke, produced a huge red and gold Chinese dragon that danced in the air, other fireworks shining through him and then suddenly stopped, drew in air and blew out bright orange flames.

Rüdiger applauded delightedly, though someone on the other end of the terrace complained that it wasn't the Chinese new year yet. In the back of his head he wondered vaguely whether that might be Kaspar's Papa.

But he didn't really care about that. He just wanted to enjoy the show and celebrate. Rarely in his life had he experienced something as delightful as this party.

Even when Margarete was caught shooting blue streaks of light into the air and her Mama took her wand away that hardly diminished Rüdiger's happiness. Besides, after an initial vehement protest Margarete took it rather philosophically.

"She'll have to give it back when school starts up again," she said. "And Papa will probably make her do so much sooner than that."

They stayed outside until almost all the fancy fireworks had stopped and the occasional white and yellow ones took over the sky again.

Rüdiger would have wanted to stay for those as well, but Frau von Raifburg came over to them to urge them to return into the castle.

"You'll catch cold," she threatened. "Aren't you shivering all over after spending so much time out in the snow, yet?"

All protests that their cloaks were keeping them perfectly warm availed nothing and so they turned to go inside.

Rüdiger cast one last longing look back over his shoulder and to his surprise saw another streak of red light shoot up from somewhere just beyond the castle grounds.

"Oh look, there's another colourful one!" he exclaimed and to his delight it turned out to be not only that but magical as well.

The light spread out into the regal and by now familiar form of the imperial eagle, looking down at them protectively in the red and white of the Austrian flag. With delighted ohs and ahs the children and many of the adults rushed back onto the terrace to see it.

Rüdiger smiled up at it, the symbol of his new magical life that had brought him so many new friends and the invitation to this wonderful party.

But then, all of a sudden the eagle seemed to flinch. Another bird-shape had suddenly appeared behind it, almost invisible in its dark blue light. The blue bird dashed straight at the frightened eagle, grabbed him with his talons and tore him apart to the sudden bang of a firecracker.

A loud "caw!" rang through the air and then the picture faded away.


End file.
